Bird song
by Hell.Fire.Feline
Summary: On a rainy day, broken and lonely, Hayato Gokudera meets Yamamoto Takeshi under a shelter... practically homeless, love less, abused, scared, and angry, the silver haired boy couldn't do anything else but trust the other... right? A wordy AU, 8059.
1. Introduction A

_AN:_ A-Ahahah this is such shit orz. I wrote it out of pure boredom, and I'll probably delete it if its not liked erwgwergwerg. ;; I had the idea, and I just had to write it down…

Enjoy this shitty and boring AU sob.

Warnings: (For future chapters if continued): Angst, character death, violence, suicidal thoughts, graphic gore, yaoi.

Pairing: 8059

* * *

_Leaving that heavy heart behind,_

_He walks, free, like a bird_

_Undisturbed by the fact_

_That clipped wings_

_Meant_

_No flying._

…

_No love for lonely people._

"_Bird song";_

_~*~Chapter one: Introduction, A.~*~_

Pathetic days. Pathetic weather.

The boy's a lonely child.

He lets himself be distracted for a second; sure enough, the scraping of the invisible claws at his windows signified the arrival of the wind, closely followed by the beat of the rain and the darkness of the dense clouds. There is a faint hum to the air, like the electricity was jumping around from spot to spot, and although the static is dancing, whole forks of white appear to tumble down from the sky and try to strike whatever earth it can. He blinks, un-amused as a particular bolt of lightning fell close to his house, and he looked the other way. It is too dangerous to be outside… but then again, inside is not much safer.

The house is lurching. Beams, once erect, lean lazily to the side in their old age, and in some places, they seem so delicate, that to even look at them will make them fall. This morbid belief actually led him to NOT look at them. The windows are nearly out of their panes, and he doesn't know how they are taking this battering so well. The roof is creaking, and their was buckets strewn about with collected the streams of water which peaked through the cracks of the slate, only to slide into the house, making the walls sweat and leak; he hated it. He hates the house, he hates the worn out sofa, the lack of nice things to sleep on, everything. But, as he scuffs a hand against his cheek to wipe away some stray dirt, he remembers; god hated him for some reason, and had cursed him to live with his mother… whom he hadn't seen in a while now.

He should care more.

"Mother?" He calls out. There is no response- at least, not immediately. Instead of hearing his name back, or hearing some sort of recognition noise, he hears a strangled sob emerge from the kitchen, and his expression falters. He doesn't bother calling her again, and instead fixates his stare on the floor. He didn't want to hear that… but, going outside was not an option. He presses his fists again his ears and closes his eyes, and for a split second, everything is muffled; the storm is whisked away, the sobbing vanishes, and the surge of blood throughout his body is the only thing he can hear, before his walls begin to break down, and the noise appears again. Damn it… He couldn't escape what he was trapped with.

"M-Mother..." He gets up from his chair, careful not to tread on nails, and tip toes around the buckets, debris, and other things, until he reaches the kitchen, which is submerged in darkness. His dull green eyes peer about, and his messes up his hair nervously, threading his fingers through his silver locks whilst trying to pinpoint her exact location. Ah, she's on the floor again—by the cupboard. He tries to penetrate the gloom with a pitiful stare, but even then, his emerald gaze can only pick out legs and hair spilling onto the tile. His breath hitches.

"You ok in here?" It was a stupid question, surely. The sobbing gets louder, and the figure on the floor tenses. He almost recoils, almost, but he digs his heels into the spot. "I asked if you are-"

"D-Don't come near me." The voice sounds unused in a while. "…Please."

He could almost imagine the hands flying up to keep him away, but he doesn't move an inch, save to lean against the creaking door post.

"W-What happened-"

"Leave me alone, please."

"But, you have to tell me, rig-"

"Don't concern yourself with it, p-please!"

"But I want to help!!"

"You can't help!!"

These conversations, this format, this biting tone; it was all common, a near daily occurrence as it were. The invisible barrier between them is strong, pushing him away, telling him to run, but he doesn't move. To see her in this state, again, was slowly tearing him apart… but, she was all he had, right? If he gave up on her, and she gave up on him, there would be nothing left for either of them… and so, he sets his mouth in a determined line and turns his gaze downwards.

"Every time…" He breathes in shakily. "Every time you are not allowed to see him, you can't sit there, crying."

Every time she didn't see him, she'd cry.

Every time she saw him, she'd cry.

And she always wanted to see him.

He was a business man, part of an empire, far away from here, far away from this life. The boy had always imagined what his fathers house had looked like; Champaign coloured carpet and matching bronze sofa's would accompany French architect on the outside, with sprawling stone vines and copper brickwork, and Italian on the inside, cream marble with flecked surfaces and a grand fireplace that was always blazing with colour. He'd have a nice car, a sports vehicle in midnight black with an electric blue dash board, and it'd be in a garage the size of the boys entire house. He'd have a giant TV and a automatic cooker and chandelles and curved candles on gleaming glass platforms- that was what his fathers house would be like.

… Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't imagine what his father was like.

His face screws into something bitter, and his breath becomes short as emotion wells up in his chest. He hadn't seen the family in over a year now… yet his mother was hopeful. STILL hopeful. Even though, every time she took the long trip uptown, barely affording the journey as it was, she'd get to the gates of the building to be turned down. And, in turmoil, she'd return home to cry until she was sick… or until the boy stopped her. She wasn't supposed to be like this... surely this is not how mothers are supposed to be? He didn't know better. It wasn't like he had any friends to see other mothers, and it wasn't like his mother had any friends for him to compare them together. He didn't see his father at all, so it wasn't as if he had anything to do with him.

"Please... don't sit on the floor." He walks over to her, now content with the fact she wouldn't mind, and proceeds to slowly help her to her feet. At his touch, she tries to recoil, but he holds her in place fast and prevents her from running away from him, or from running off to do something stupid in her current state. She lashes out at him unsuccessfully, trying to bite him, but he ignores her and tries to drag her as calmly and as gently as he can to the front room, where he forces her to sit down on the sofa with his own hands.

"Calm down!" He frowns at her. He hated this. He _detested _it. She was still struggling.

"I love you, Hayato, I-I do, but sometimes, sometimes-"

"But sometimes, you wish I'd have never been born." He finishes for her, not a single word harsh or angry. He had heard that so many times now, it was just a 'thing' she said to him every time he did something 'wrong'. He used, USED to run, crying, to anyone or anything, but nowadays, everything was normal, THIS, him having to pin his mother to a sofa in order to get her to stay calm, was normal. He pressed harder into her wrists. She cries out in alarm and lashed out further, but it causes him to pin her back equally back as hard, and even though he knew he was hurting her, he didn't hold back. His anger swirls around his body like poison, and his worry for her and his concern disappears like leaves being washed by the rain, and leaf by leaf, he loses focus. He is a slave to emotion, and he knows this, but reasons beyond him… he can't stop himself.

"Calm down!" He snaps, face hideous. "I swear, calm down-" He was cut off by sheer expression. She tosses her head to the side, sunk back into the cushions, and wore the look of a kicked puppy. He opens his mouth, and closes it. He was becoming the one at fault… shakily, he let go of her, turned his back, and clenched his fists at his side. He heard a shuffling, which signified her sitting up, and she reached out, tugging on the back of his grey hoodie lightly. He doesn't react.

"Nothings your fault…" She wipes her tears away with her free arm. Her wrists were red, but her face was scarlet in embarrassment. "Nothings ever your fault..."

"… I'm going to smoke." He rasps quietly, and he walks away from her, pulling himself out of her grip. He went to the door, ignorant of the storm for once, and put a shaky hand on the door knob. His mother gasped loudly.

"Hayato, Hayato, you are going to come back, right?" She whimpers. That was the question she ALWAYS asked when he left the house.

"….." He doesn't answer. He couldn't be bothered too, it was pathetic to ask a question like that.

He heard an intake of breath, and he knew she was either about to start crying, so he quickly whips open the door, darts out, and then closes it again with a loud 'thud!', not caring to hear what she had to say. . Sometimes, he felt like she was so selfish. But then again, he was there to help her, correct her, and so he took responsibility of her actions upon himself. Next time she wanted to see father, he'd lock her in before she could get out.

He ran.

Outside, now in reach of the storm, he observes the swirls of water and winds around the obstructions by his house, around the bare fields and the slack houses nearby, just as bad as his. He grimaces slightly; 'There is no escaping a cats claws.' That phrase, that odd expression, immediately sprung to mid as he watched the down pour, sheltered somewhat by the small slate overhand of the house, and his mouth quirked into a dry smile. He was indeed a cats play thing.

He starts to walk, the hood over his head damp already, the rain like knives on his weakly clothed body. He walks out into the storm as if it was a summers night, away from that hellish place that held treasured things, almost in a trance. He often ran away, always, as emotion had a strangle hold on him, it was always making him do foolish things. However, this time, he actually felt not like running away, for his mother would be expecting him back (he always came back, after all), but just… walking. Soul searching. Or maybe he just wanted to get away for a little while. And this weather? The roll of the clouds, the hum of the rain, those dancing sparks; they could all be described as peaceful, too.

He has to walk far. Its far to any kind of civilisation, and soon enough, the glow of the city draws near, and as he always does when he sees the city, his eyes light up in emerald fire. He loved it there. His dream was to live there, not in the middle of a lonely field with lonely houses scattered around him oddly, but with REAL people and live a REAL life. He looks back to the blotch that is his house. And then to the light up paradise. And he isn't going back for the rest of the night, he decides. His grey hair now sleek and a mottled shade of black almost from the damp, he breaks into a run towards cover, as the onslaught of natural fury gets too much; but he's grinning. This thrill was like being chased by a killer, him being the prey, of course. And he _loved _the thrill sometimes. Simplistic as it was, he always thought of himself as a being on the run, a fugitive, one of those no-restriction children, and even though life bit, he enjoyed the biting every now and again.

The biting drew blood on occasions.

He runs past a stone block, and electric box, and thinks he needs to go in. Something precious could be in danger. But he reasons it'll still be there when he goes back, so he continues.

The rain _had _to stop soon. It had to.

On arrival to the city, he sees the streets still full with life, brimming with the essence of 'human', even if it is raining down hard still. Everyone has umbrellas or Macs or folders or news papers, and he had his hood, which was soaked through right now, and he felt like a drowned rat. He ignores it. After all, the rain is nothing, no matter how hard it falls. It's just rain.

He finds himself wandering around, looking at neon signs and people eating in fancy restaurants. He wanted to eat in places like that too, he wanted to eat things from the sea and fresh things and use those conveyer belts which go around the room with food on. His looking of longing goes unnoticed by the people eating, and he is free to stare on, at the colour, and the splendours of pink shell fish and snowy rice and vibrant green leaves and dark blue water; all crisp and clean looking, and seemingly so expensive, only people with suits and cars and those-watches-which-tell-different-country-times could afford them. He slackens. Maybe his father ate in places like this often. Turning away gingerly, he walks onwards, trying to shove the thought of hot food in every colour out of his head.

The more he walks, the richer it gets. Cell phones fade into PDA's and laptops, and peoples suits turn into tuxedos and the cars become slick and shiny in the greyness. He ignores it all. Sometimes, he could pretend he was one of these people, in this district because he belonged here, however, reality would always set in when someone would give him a funny look. What was a scruffy teenager like him doing there? How did he get there? Same old questioning looks. He always looked back. Secretly, he hated these people. He hated them just for the sole reason that he was not like them, that they complained when there car came in the wrong colour or there hair was messed up by the wind or that that golden, jewel encrusted ring had a shade of purple on the owner didn't like so they wanted another one. They had no idea what it was like beyond their lives. He suddenly bristles at a man leaning against a wall, who is staring at him, and he makes a snarling expression at him. The man looks disgusted, and walks on in a huff. The boy mumbles something obscene under his breath, before feeling a range of emotions flicker through him, embarrassment at his initial reaction, the because he knew they were staring at his appearance, and horror at the fact the police might have been called. However, nothing happens. He walks on.

A fork of lighting.

Everything is lit up in glorious white light, before it fades into the distance; and after it, slow but steady, there is the roll of extraordinarily deep thunder which rattles the poles and buildings. People stare. There is silence, before suddenly, the wind picks up ferociously, stronger than before. The rain, troublesome as it was, shifts, and he is momentarily blinded by its power- its getting worse?! He makes a somewhat startled cry as the rain morphs into half rain, half hail stones, and the wind whips him painfully. People all around, if they were walking, began to run, and if they were running, they ran faster. They disappeared into buildings, around corners, everywhere; this was more than a storm. Some kind of hurricane?! It wasn't even the season for it yet! He looks back to where he walked from, all the way back, and thought about his mother and his house. She'd be terrified, and it made him terrified for her, but he couldn't go back, not in this weather. He runs too now, as fast as he can, almost tripping up. He should have stayed at home. The only shelter he can see not occupied is the doorway to a closed bank, too late for it to be open, and he scrambles under the shelter, breathing hard, and watches as the streets seem to swell with rain. The house, the house. Every fibre wanted him to go back, but he had to stay; but his mother, and the house—he looked hesitant. He stared back out of it, body shaking from the cold, and starts forward, stops, and then goes to the edge of the shelter. _Go home. Go home. _He had too. He ran out into the rain again-

-At least, he tried to.

He felt a hand tug him back in, and he stumbles back into the shelter, flustered, and swivels around. He hadn't even noticed there was someone there.

"You are not really thinking about going out in that, are you?"

The voice was smooth and organised- a business type person, those who he hated above all. However, adjusting his eyes to the gloom, he saw that in fact, it was a boy. Just like him. He blinked in surprise.

"Mind your own business." He spits, and goes to run again. He's yanked back in.

"You'll end up ill and maybe dying. That's a ferocious storm." Said the boy. "Is it worth it?"

All black. He was wearing all black and a deep blue tie, and suave shoes which almost gleamed in the half-light. He had one of those watches- the country ones, one of silver and gold hands, and it was stark and glittering against his seemingly tanned skin. His eyes glowed in the half light as if he was some kind of predator, but it wasn't a harsh glow, unlike the others, whose was fierce at the fact a stranger was keeping him back. The second boys hair was black and seemingly undisturbed by the rain- in fact, had this guy even been in the rain at all? With his grey hoody clinging to his skinny frame and his general appearance of someone who had been on the street all there life, it was a horrific contrast.

"Why do you care?" The poorer boy hisses, but inside, nervousness was eating him. The other boy frowns.

"It's human to care for everyone." He says simply.

"You're a rich idiot, leave me alone, and go back to your mansion." His voice is venom. He had to go to his mother, who was probably worried sick for him, worried about where he was in this ferocious storm and probably prepared to go look for him. He shuddered at the thought. "I'm gone."

He goes to run again, but this time, his wrist is grabbed. "Where are you running too?" The other, taller by tilts his head to the side in genuine curiosity.

"Let me go-" He struggles frantically. "I gotta' get home!" He huffs and puffs, his chest heaving with the effort of trying to break an iron grip. It isn't working.

"I'll take you home!" The tanned boy says cheerfully. The first one chokes.

"You don't know me or where I live, and I sure as _hell_ won't tell you, you pervert!" He fumes, tugging now weaker than before. He just wanted to get back, and out of this rapists- which he seemed to be- grip. Panic was starting to set in, however. He was in possession of cigarettes, which were illegal, and this guy seemed really strong; was he going to get beaten up and turned in for being in this area?! He whimpers, very, very quietly. Everything was getting kind of scary. The other frowns a bit at his expression, but then smiles again.

"I always help people, even strangers." He explains. "I can't help it, especially when I see people looking so helpless." He holds up his hand to show he means no harm, letting go of the first boy, who immediately tenses and bristles like an angry cat.

"I'm Yamamoto Takeshi!" The richer one is still smiling. "It's nice to meet you, Mr…."

"Mr. I'm-not-telling-you."

"That's a long name!"

He really cannot tell if the richer boy is being serious, or not. It worried him a little, but he shrugs it off easily.

"I have to go. My mom will be worried." He frowns, turning around. "Don't stop me, I have to run fast-

"Then you are in luck. You have good timing."

"What?"

"Listen." Yamamoto points to the ceiling. The other stops talking, and listens gingerly. There is a noise, like a quiet purring, and it thrums in the air. He turns to its source, to find a dot on the main road, far away, that seems to be growing bigger and faster as seconds ticked by. Suddenly, it becomes a loud revving sound, and a blur in the distance, just a scarlet smudge, begins to grow bigger, getting noisier and noisier, until he can identify it as a car, and he stares in wonder. It's a _beast. _Flashy red with faded black accents, its headlights glow like a lions eyes at night, and it tears through the road as if it was made of paper. Even the _rain _seems to avoid it, and as the noise gets unbearably loud, the poor boy takes a step back. The car grinds to a stop in front of them, the engine still purring, and the wheels gleaming like diamonds. Yamamoto is grinning.

"She's nice, right?" He's talking about the car. "I'm not allowed to drive her, but, she's still nice."

The first boy is shell shocked. This car… the other didn't look any older than he did! How did he have a car already- oh right, he was rich. Complex pleasures where something within grasp for him. Regardless, he still scowls, folding his arms over his chest whilst still eyeing the monster of a car before him. The windows were tinted so he couldn't see the driver, but he assumed the other had some kind of chauffer. He _really _hated this kind of people.

"I'm not getting in a strangers car." He says simply. "I'll walk."

"You talk like I am going to do illegal acts to you." He says that whilst grinning, which worries the first even more. "I'm harmless, see?" He makes what he hopes looks like a cat face, with his 'paw' up by his face in the traditional Japanese lucky cat pose. The first stares bluntly. This guy was an idiot.

"You are still a stranger. I don't trust strangers."

"Aha, you live in the moor area, right? Outside of town, with all the little settlements?" Yamamoto drops his 'cat' pose. The grey-haired one gasps.

"H-How did you know that?!" He seethes.

"Well, you don't look so flashy!" He nods. "And you were amazed at my car!"

The first boy stammered, but didn't say anything. It was true. With this mangled appearance in contrast to the others, he must have been like a homeless person. This was just odd. This GUY was odd. So happy and cheerful… whilst all around them, the sky was trying to kill them with the harsh weather. He blinks. The other copies him with a bemused face. No really, this guy was an idiot. The first boy circles him, taking in his appearance, his reaction to the circling (which is, of course, smiling and craning his head to follow the other but not moving at all) and his general composition. He can't find any mean intent, so he stands up straight. A car beat walking in a storm any day… right?

"….Are you sure?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Of course!" Yamamoto shoves the boy towards the car, and he dashes to its side frantically, not wanting to get wet, to open the doors; he discovers they are fly-away doors, and lift up rather than out- how flashy. He hops in, shivering, whilst Yamamoto gets in the other side, slipping the door shut quietly whilst he bangs his. In front of him, there is a black wall separating him and the driver, and in front of Yamamoto, there is a screen- it has a digital picture of roads on it. The first one stares as if this is something out of this world.

"You live…" Yamamoto touches the screen, and he scrolls around, the streets moving on the digital map, until he scrolls and the roads disappear, and the entire screen goes green. "…Here." He points to the green. "There are no roads here."

"…There are no roads." He repeats to confirm this, and he searches the others expression for malice or cruel amusement. There is none, and it surprises him. The tanned one touches 'confirm' on the screen, and the car whirrs to life, and although on the outside, the engine noise is loud, inside, there is nothing. Yet again, he is surprised. He looks around the car in interest and discovers that the seats are leather, the stereo is integrated into the walls and even in the ceiling, and everything is jet black with clean, red circles here and there. It was amazing, really; everything was so… comfortable? To his side, he can hear the other humming a song softly to himself, with his eyes closed. The first one wonders who the hell this guy is, and why the hell he was so happy at a time like this. He gathers courage.

"Is there actually someone driving?"

"Hmm! I gave them the co-ordinates through the sat-nav."

"Is your family rich or something?"

"Hmm! Mom and Dad work a lot, sometimes, it gets lonely."

"You a single child then?"

"Hmm! Its just me."

Hesitation.

"I'm Hayato Gokudera, by the way."

The other opens an eye, still grinning, but he stops humming.

"Hayato Gokudera…" He mouths, staring at the ceiling. "Never heard of you!" He says it in a somewhat sad tone despite sounding happy still, as if he actually expected to KNOW who the other was. Gokudera nearly sighs in annoyance.

"I'm nobody." He says simply.

"Well clearly you are somebody." The other shoves his hands into his pockets and closes his eyes again. "You exist, right?"

"Really?"

"Really."

Gokudera frowns, but its not harsh. What an odd sense of humour this was, but, he couldn't help but find himself slightly distracted by the other. It was amusing, as odd as it was, being in a car with someone you had known for around half an hour. And although the hate was still there, for this was a being so much higher than him, he couldn't help but somewhat… feel like he had known him so much longer.

There is silence, but it's not a bad silence. It's a silence of thought and aural procession and wonderment, and whilst Yamamoto looks like he has fallen asleep, the only thing indicates that he hasn't being that his breath wasn't slow or deep, but entirely neutral, Gokudera was still somewhat stressed as he remembers what he was in the car for- to check up on his mother.

And to his shame, he forgot to visit the shed. Damn it…

He was such an idiot for running away, walking, at night in weather like this, leaving his mother, and the shed. If he could, he would have chose to shrink into those soft leather seats right there and then. Embarrassment was scrawled all over his face.

_Disappointment disappointment disappointment._

The tanned one opened an eye, and stared at the others flushed appearance. He was so scrawny; what sort of life did children out here live anyway? Turning to the window, he saw not only the never ending curtain of water, but the seemingly never ending stretch of baron land which the car skid across. He frowns. What a nasty area. Turning back to Gokudera, he is about to open his mouth and say something to interrupt the others trail of thought, however, something stops him. He eyes him carefully and refrains from commenting on the land, the bits of strewn wreckage on its marred surface, or his thoughts on the existence of such a place. A home was a home was a home, right? He notices the other boy shivering, and sees him hiding his mouth in the front of his hoody. The tanned one tilts his head again.

"You have clothes to change out of, right?" He asks quite innocently. Gokudera snaps to attention and is somewhat offended.

"I'm not some tramp!" He hisses. "I have more than one set of clothes!" That anger flares up again, even if he knows it is only him. Yamamoto holds his hands up in surrender again.

"I didn't mean it like that! I was concerned; you're shivering, after all."

"Don't be concerned about strangers."

Gokudera turns to the window, and breathes against it deeply, creating a misty scene which fades into the murky grey of outside. He'd never get the mind set of someone well-off, so he didn't even bother- after all, he'd never be 'well-off', and so he didn't need to think or understand someone who was. He watches mud take flight from the spinning of silver rims against the earth, and recognises where he is.

"Go left." He instructs. The other boy stares at him, before nodding and keying in the directions on the screen. The car shifts. He saw no land mark whatever—in fact, he barely saw anything. There was a house, or the remnants of one, and a caravan, and a car of some sorts (but what sort of car didn't have a hood for the engine?), some mounds, more houses dotted randomly around the place—but, everything looked the same, no matter how hard he stared. And good god, he stared hard, trying to figure it out. The grey haired one was bemused at the expression of utter concentration, but mistook it for some kind of disgust deep down. He flushed under the comfort of his hood. It was embarrassing.. it was embarrassing because he was afraid of being judged.

"Stop."

The car skids to a halt, sending a flurry of torn dirt and thick water into the air, surely messing the car up as it went. Gokudera didn't feel guilty in the least- he could just clean it, right? If he had a car like this, he probably had a personal cleaner. Yes, he had nothing to feel guilty about.

"We're here. Thank you, good bye." He bows his head, and goes to get out the car, but kind of doesn't want to leave the thick leather, the warmth, and the smell of freshness. But he has too… he has to. The other inclines his head, with that same smile.

"It's no problem." He grins, almost in relief that the other wasn't too hostile now. After all, they had had a bumpy start. "I can walk you out."

"I'm not a child." He frowns. "I can walk to my own front door."

"But I want to see where Hayato lives." He smiles, looking kind of excited for some reason. The other makes a growling sound in his throat.

"I said thank you. Now, leave me alone, you are not needed anymore."

And with a soft _click, _the fly-away doors slant upwards, and he is yet again confronted by the howling of the storm and the biting of the wind. With out looking back, he closes the door, shoves his hands into his pocket, and walks briskly up to the house that looked as if it had been randomly placed in a deserted field, and hid underneath the rim of the houses roof. He never had his key, never, so he'd have to kick in the door again—

"Hey, it's actually kind of big." Sounds a voice next to him. He jumps, nearly hitting the ceiling, and hisses violently. Yamamoto still has the same cheery expression, and he is holding an umbrella that is as sleek as his car. Even his umbrella's were more upper-class than the other boy. He felt embarrassed once more at the simple pleasure of having a mobile shelter.

"G-Go away!" He yowls, pushing the other violently into the rain. Yamamoto looks confused.

"Hmm?" He blinks. "What's wrong?"

"Go back to your car and drive off, I don't want to following me like a fucking pervert on heat, so leave me alone!!" He's hostile again. Being followed by someone who looked constantly like a puppy was rather annoying, especially when he didn't know the said puppy. Scowling furiously, he kicked his door open loudly, and slammed it just as hard back. He didn't want the other seeing how he lived. At all. That was just degrading—he felt like a pigeon compared to an eagle. A common scum bag such as him didn't deserve the attention of someone—he was being self-sympathetic, and that was never a good thing.

He surveys the house, which has more holes in the roof, and this time, there are no buckets to catch them. The floor is getting damp and foul smelling already, and he walks around the falling fountains from above towards the kitchen, cutting across the living room carefully. No sign of his mother so far. Entering the gloom of the coldest room of the house, he peered about, his eyes sparkling in the grim light. There was nothing, and the sound of running water was the only noise. His heart stuttered a bit, and he felt it flutter in his chest uncomfortably. Swinging his head around to her room, he peers in, an finds it to be empty again. And then to his room. Nothing. Not a single soul in the house. He got nervous.

"…Mom?" He blinked, voice quivering. "Mother?"

He stood still, and bit his lip hard.

The argument. The damn arguing all the time.

And the way he had left…

"Hayato…"

He doesn't answer.

His mother was gone.


	2. Introduction B

A/N: I got a looooot of notifications about this thing. QAQ Glad people liked it srwegewetbntb. w

Nothing much happens in this chapter. The reason for this is because this was originally part of chapter one, but I split it in half because it would make the first too long. So its like, chapter 1 part B?

Reviewshelpmewritefaster,.:'D **BRICKED**

So review, please? xD

3

* * *

_I couldn't help but notice_

_That you were crying_

_Is it because these feelings_

_Confuse you_

_Or is it because_

_You know they'll be returned?_

…

_I find comfort in you._

"_Birdsong";_

_~*~Chapter two: Introduction B; you are normal, right?~*~_

He scours every nook and cranny, every hiding place, every hiding place of hers, every place he could think of. She wasn't there. At all. He skidded back to the front room in his panic and looked out the window. She couldn't have… could she have run to HIM in this storm!? Worry and utter dread settled in his chest, and he found his breath becoming short and erratic. Why at this time?! They hadn't even argued badly!! But then again… he hadn't said he'd come back. At all. And he couldn't remember if he had ever done that before. Of all the nights, of all the nights…

"You ok?"

He doesn't bother being shocked this time.

Yamamoto is leaning against a weak beam lightly, his umbrella STILL up when inside to deter the water that was leaking in. His mouth is set not in a grin for once, but in a frown, and Gokudera didn't turn to him nor respond. He frowns a little more.

"…..I said-"

"I. Heard. You." The other spoke through his teeth. He was furious. He was furious that the other had entered his house, a complete stranger, when he had told him not to, and he was furious that his mother had run away to his father in this weather, and he was furious at 'God' or whoever it was. He _hated _life. He hated it.

"Get out."

"But I'm worried."

"Who am I?"

"You're Hayato!"

"That's all you know." He sounds animalistic with his words. The bite is painful to listen to. "Get out!! Before I call the police!! I have bigger things to worry about—"

"Your mother isn't here?" Yamamoto says softly. "I heard you calling."

"And so what if she isn't?" Its obvious from the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath his thin hoodie that he's in a panic and he's trying to hide it, and the tanned boy had the eyes of a hawk.

"If you're worried, I can help you look for her." He blinks. He has the aura of someone who generally wants to help, and he looks genuine—but, he can't help himself. Every now and then, his gaze slides to the side to look at the house, the terrible condition of it, and it breaks his heart. He doesn't want to be in there. He wanted to buy the shorter boy a house or something akin to that, because this wasn't a house in his eyes. It frightens him that humans can be like this… that anyone can exist in this space. "Where is she most likely to go?"

"…." Gokudera doesn't want to tell him. He doesn't want more help, and he doesn't want to go through this shame, but this kid with his fast car and his auto-place-on-a-map-on-a-screen and his seemingly good intentions make him regardless. "….U-up-town." He bites his lip. "The building that has the steel skeleton to its brick work. It has big gates, with a lion, and a slate blue roof—its huge--" He never knew the name of the building, but that was where he was sure his father worked. Yamamoto looked as if he didn't know it, but nodded regardless.

"I'll help!"

"…."

It wasn't as if the other boy could pay the other boy back. At all. This sort of kindness was almost inhuman to him—he had never met anyone else willing to help him. In any way. His mother did occasionally, but really, wasn't it her job to?

"…Are you sure?"

The richer boy nods enthusiastically.

"Of course—" The tanned boy's vision suddenly glints. "…What's that?"

Gokudera follows his gaze.

How the hell didn't he see that!?

There, propped up on the table with one of the buckets is a small post it note, sheltered from the rain by a book that he had read a thousand times—And he runs to it. It was well hidden in the corner, away from direct light, and the glinting from the dead light was the only thing that had alerted Yamamoto to its presence. A sharp eye indeed.

The poorer boy rips off the note, sheltering from some of the drips, and looks at it. Its kind of smudged because of the water, but its still there—and that's his mothers hand writing and terrible spelling and generally bad grammar that she usually used, of course. He was almost afraid to read it, but he let his eyes scan over it regardless.

Hayato

Im going to the citie becuse you ran I want to find you. I'll get farthers help, hell help Im sure you wont come bak here so we can hav a new life in the citie. Pleas come to me an your dad, he loves you aswell Remebmer that ok I'm waitng for you there .

Mom x I lov you x

Dad loves you to x

_Something seems wrong._

But he can't figure out what, and ignores it.

It is confirmed. She has gone back to him, AGAIN, except this time, she was looking to stay with him. Was she insane? She's never been past the gates, let alone inside—it was stupid. She'll be turned down and kicked out and she'll come back and he'll be waiting and and and the house is in danger. And she's gone there looking for him, after thinking he wouldn't come back that time. She really was in the clouds. Of course he was going to come back! He ALWAYS came back! Ripping the note to pieces, he messes up his hair violently with a free hand, feeling the urge to cry. He feels the need to scream, even. He hated his father, and there was no way he was going to him. NO WAY. He wants her though, he wants her—

Takeshi waves a hand in front of his face.

"Hayato?"

"She's with my dad." He seethes. "She ran to him again and she doesn't sound like she's coming back this time."

"…I'm sorry." Yamamoto's eyes are filled with concern and sympathy, and Gokudera wonders how someone can be so sympathetic to someone they didn't know. "…I-I wish I could help more-"

"Its over. I'll stay here and wait—she'll be back. She HAS to come back. He wont take her in. And I'll wait for her."

Yamamoto frowned. Waiting… it was such an adult-y thing to do, and he was sure they were either of equal age or similar age. He was reminded of himself; after all, he waited a lot for his parents, and they NEVER came to him. It made him twinge in something akin to annoyance, but the boy didn't understand negative emotion and passed it off as a feeling of concern.

"You can't stay here alone in a place like this…" He looks kind of timid. "Come with me. To my house."

"_What. What. _Did you just ask me to-"

"You don't want to stay here alone, rig-"

"You are talking as if we are not going to find her tonigh-"

"We are going to look, but the storm blacks a lot of thi-"

"I'm not staying with a pervert-"

"But I'm not a pe-"

"You can't help me now!!"

Screaming.

Yamamoto looks down and shuffles his feet nervously.

Yamamoto Takeshi, only child to two of the most well known people in town, is a lonely person. He never sees anyone of his own age, and is never allowed out of his house alone, for his parent's are over protective of him. He practises sports all day, studies all night, and some times he can remain in his room for days on end, attempting to grasp work that was often too hard. He isn't too good with academic things, after all. And no matter how many guards, or servants, or anyone else talks to him, and they DO talk to him; after all, he is possibly the friendliest master they have ever had, he still feels incredibly lonely.

Days are spent looking out of windows, but from his room, he can't see the streets at the front of his oh-so-fancy mansion, and THAT is what he WANTS to see. He has anything he wants brought for him- but, he never asks for anything. Under the impression that he was a brat, people assume he has all the latest gear and links to the best games. He has none. He didn't want gadgets and money and expensive clothes- he wanted to race people, NORMAL people, and maybe play soccer with them, and then go eat with them at the same table. He wanted to be NORMAL. But, born like this, it was impossible- and sure as hell his parent's were not going to let him be free anytime soon.

He lives a life of isolation.

So when the opportunity to meet new appears, he takes it. His parents are off on a weekend trip (however, he rarely see's them anyway) so HE is the leader of the house. And as the leader, he eradicates all rules- and he goes out, alone, into the town. And that's when he realises, stupidly, he not only doesn't know where to go, but its actually raining out rather hard. He runs; away from the house. Its only when he reaches a shelter did he decide he'd have to ring someone at the house to pick him up. They ask, does he want the jeep or the super-car? He asks for the super-car. He never got a chance to use it normally. And he waits, whilst his GPS tracks a car—

--And he finds Hayato.

And Hayato is normal, right?

"Just trying to help..." He mewls. "I-It doesn't matter, I'll still help! I feel guilty now!" And his smile is sad, but it's still a smile.

"YOU feel guilty when you didn't even do anything—so imagine how I feel." Gokudera says with a blunt tone. "At any rate, if she's with him… I'm scared for the house…And this shed I know about a little bit away from here…" He looks around. "……..Flooding." He goes to the door and looks out of the murky glass, taking in the sight of the water logged mud getting and higher. Indeed, the house was in danger from collapse- he had never seen such a big storm before.

The damp is already rotting the wood and the floor is becoming covered in a thin layer of wet from the ceiling drippings. They had long run out of buckets, and he wonders how the electricity is still on. It should have cut off long ago- but he pushes the thought out of his head. That was jinxing it, right?.. Right?

"…Are you sure," Yamamoto's voice breaks his trail of thought, "You don't want to stay with me for ONE night? We can contact the building in the morning to see if she is there, and we have a lot of room…" He pushes a support beam to the house, and the wood squelches as if it had been found in a lake and brought inside. "…Because it's dangerous in here." He frowns. The whole place reeks of water, and his feet are getting wet. In fact, the whole AREA is in danger, and he wonders why, when he looks outside, in the far distance the faintest of lights from another house can be seen through the rain.

It was worry that stemmed from **human nature. **

And nothing more.

_This was his reasoning._

"…" Hayato doesn't know what to do. She had run to HIM, and he was left alone… he should go join them, but… His eyes shine with desperation. "What do I do?" He turns to look at the other, his dull green eyes reflecting an image of Yamamoto, who now has a sad air about him.

"But she said she was going to live with your father… That means Hayato is here alone, right?"

_It doesn't seem right that she'd run in a storm like this._

"…."

"Well, then... only hope the house doesn't fall over?" Yamamoto tilts his head in puzzlement, before turning to look out of the window.

Remember, Hayato Gokudera is a lonely person, too.

"……..Y-You…" He looks torn apart. "Are you SURE you can ring my fathers building in he morning?"

Yamamoto nods, brightening up.

"Of course, of course!" He chirps. Gokudera nods.

"…One night. ONLY because the house is bad, and the storm, and mother… but JUST one night." He frowns hard. "And I am watching you closely."

"I'd never do anything to anyone." The way the rich boy says that makes Hayato's heart break for some reason. He growls, kind of tense, and whips around.

"I-I need to get things, che--" He furrows his brow. He didn't have anything to bring of any importance. "No wait, I need to go somewhere first, take me--" Finally, he'd go to the shed--

"'Che'?" Yamamoto is giggling, EVEN at a time like this, EVEN after the seriousness of that conversation. "'Che'?"

"…What?" Gokudera is confused. The other one mimics him like a baby bird.

"So cute, Hayato. I'll take you anywhere-- che!"

Gokudera face palms.

"Just get to the car." He ignores the 'cute', shoving the other outside. He clings to the door frame a little, looking in. Everything was always so bare and empty here… he had nothing, he realises. Just the same re-read books and the same few pieces of clothes and the empty cupboards. He hated this house, he _hated _it, and yet, it was 'home'… it was 'home'. He decides to run to his room quickly to do a double check, dodging incoming rain from above, and slowly, the lights flicker off as he flips a switch, and the house becomes eaten by darkness, another shapeless mound on the landscape. He slams the door shut, and the house creaks in response. Yamamoto watches sadly, before sliding the doors open and getting inside, navigating his house on the pad.

Excitement, excitement.

He has never had a single person round to his house before. Not at all. Not at least, someone there for HIM and not his family. It was a giddy sort of feeling at the feeling that he might make some kind of friend in this process, and maybe he'd have someone to spend time with and lonely-days-and-lonely-nights would cease to exist. Its what he hoped. But, he took his head out of his clouds and focused on the task at hand. 'Task'. Gokudera slides into the car beside him and watches the car doors fly down as if they were cutting him off from some kind of precious things, and the rich boy wants to take his mind off of things as-soon-as-possible, JUST because that look on his face, those sad green eyes, they made him want to give the boy anything he wanted. And that sort of feeling was strong for a person you had only just met.

Maybe… just maybe… Yamamoto was going to make a friend.

And for him, that was the most exciting thing in the world.

He smiled, with a warm feeling in his chest.

No, he wasn't going to lose this boy.

He'd give him anything he wanted.


	3. Uri

EFGwegerg ty guys for the support, it makes me want to keep writing w

Reviews guys, because I am a review whore :'D… And this story takes FOREVER to write one chapter xD ILU

THEY KEEP THIS FIC ALLIVE *A* **BRICKED**

* * *

_I saw a smiling face_

_And I knew it was yours_

_Underneath the pale sky_

_I cry for you_

_And you alone._

_Why?_

…

_Why can't I stop thinking about you?_

"_Birdsong";_

_~*~Chapter three: Uri.~*~_

"Hayato wanted to go somewhere first, ne?" He tugs the smile back on his face. "Where about?"

"On the edge of the city," He frowns, "There is a concrete structure that was an electrical shed before it got wreaked and they moved it in town. Its empty and everyone leaves it alone from fear of being electrocuted, DISPITE the fact it isn't activated." He snorts, amazed such stupid people these days existed. "We drove past it. Drive back the way we came—I need to check up on something there."

The frown gets deeper, and there is a sharp intake of breath.

He's preparing himself for something, clearly.

Yamamoto nods, and the car whirrs into life at the touch of a button.

The grey haired one watches the house fade, slowly slowly, into the darkness. Even if it was just a day, he'd never stayed anywhere else before… And something felt wrong about his mother running and leaving a NOTE of all things… something felt horribly wrong. Sure, she was ill, but she had sense, human sense which determined everyone's actions at the core, so her just leaving to find him seemed like an unlikely thing... but then again, she did run to father a lot, and for that simple reason, he let his theories remain as they were. For now, at least.

They arrive fairly quickly- after all, the fast car made short work of miles, and it glided across the mud like a ghost. He can see the concrete box for miles before they even reach it, just because it was all alone, and the black square that was the destination was quite stand-y-out-y on the colour of the city back drop. Yamamoto stares on at it. What business could be done at an electrical shed, he wonders, but he doesn't voice it out loud. He simply instructs the car to stop beside it, and it responds to his fingers, slowing to a halt. Before it even stops however, Hayato opens the doors.

"I swear, and I am utterly serious," His voice is a low murmur, "Don't follow me this time."

That choking tone; he decides to obey. He obliges, and watches the others actions from the window. The boy is moving in a hesitant way- as if he didn't want to go.

And finally, he gets to the shed. A few hours late.

Its dim inside.

There is a buzz, but there is no electricity. The walls have plates with scrawled letters indicating 'danger!' and 'watch out!' and there is even graffiti on the old, abandoned panels. He uses the light from the cars head lights, and he squats down low to the floor, just inside. And this time, he didn't want to go further in, JUST because its sad. Its breaking his heart even. He holds his hands out, and rubs his fingers together softly, making a tsking noise. Yamamoto watches, unable to hear, but watches regardless. He can't see much, just the others back, but he can see him bending down. His head inclines again. What curious behaviour. The floor was a dirty place, after all.

And Hayato Gokuderas hand is suddenly pounced on--

--A little cat appears.

"Uri, Uri-"

The kittens ears flutter like butterflies.

Uri is a ginger cat. His tail, abnormally long, has a kink three quarters of the way down which means the end looks as if it is permanently broken at a 90 degree's angle. It happened when he was in his first few weeks of life, and now the bone cannot be fixed. He has big kitten-ears, and big kitten-feet, and he looks clumsy. All his ribs are visible, and his eyes are a startling copper, almost red; if he wasn't so dirty, thin, and scraggily, he would have been a beautiful cat. His dirty orange fur was slick with mud, and as he clung to Gokuderas arm, the boys arm is becoming wet with the water and the dirt, too. The animal is frightened. He smiles. He smiles regardless. And the smile is as broken as the little cat.

"Uri…" He picks up the cat, standing up. The kitten doesn't try to escape, but he bats Gokuderas nose with a free paw, twisting himself round so it looked like the boy was cradling him. The boys hoody quickly becomes dirty from the cat, but he doesn't care. He looks around timidly. Sure enough, the high ground of the shed helped, but he was still in nearly an inch of water just at the door. Uri was shivering, too. The little cat would die here in this weather… and he wasn't even that old. He cuddled the cat as close to his heart as he could, feeling his throat get thick.

"I'm coming back, Uri," He whispers to the animal, and the kitten looks up. "I know, I'm supposed to come everyday, but you won't see me tomorrow at all…" He holds him out at arms length to take in his condition. "…You won't see me at all."

Uri's bent tail swishes back and forth, not really understanding the words.

And he doesn't want to put him down.

He'd drown.

He'd drown, right?

Gokudera hugs the cat back to his chest, and looks back at the car. He couldn't… he'd mess up the car… but he couldn't leave the kitten here. He hadn't had any food to give the animal in a while, and he was getting thinner and thinner every day. Maybe… if he could release Uri in the city, the kitten could live off scraps there? He nodded to himself. Yes, he could do that. He didn't want Uri to die, not little-cat-kitten-pet Uri, who he loved and kept secret. It was _his _secret.

He had morals. Usually, he hated animals, but Uri was different. He had known the kitten since before he could even stand- he had seen him be born. Uri's mother was long gone, having left the little feline, and Gokuderas mom didn't want him to bring a 'filthy animal' into the house, even if said animal was the size of one of his hands and looking as if it was going to collapse any second. So, he hid Uri in the abandoned shed, and went there everyday, without fail. And the cat would wait for him. Looking after a living thing… it amazed him. Like children, cats grew, and they learnt things, and he loved watching Uri learn. He is awarded with kitten-like antics, such as tearing his arms apart, but he loved it. He loved the cat.

He walks back to the car, and shoves Uri underneath his hoody whilst doing that. The feline clings to his body with his claws, and his little head just pokes out of top of the clothing, at his throat. He hides underneath the others chin from the rain, and Gokudera doesn't mind if the claws hurt. He didn't mind at all. He slips back into the car, hiding the cat as best as he can, but the kitten jumps when he slams the doors down. The vehicle begins to move towards the rich boys house. The shed became a place of little importance when the cat was not there.

"Hayato?" Takeshi looks at him oddly. "What did you get?"

"…….." He sighs, keeping his body turned away. "….Can you do me a favour? When we get to the city… stop by an alley or something?"

"…Ok?" He boy grins, worriedly. "Any alley?"

"Yes, any alley-"

And there is a soft mewling sound.

They both look at each other with wide eyes, and Gokudera releases his hold on the cat a little, who feels as if he's suffocating in the boys grasp. In doing so, his legs end up appearing at the bottom of the boys hoody, and he falls out, sliding onto the poor boys lap, and he flushes in utter shame again.

"Get back in--" He tries to shove the kitten back up his top, who is yowling in protest, and he freezes; just because Yamamoto is laughing, hard. It's the kind of sound which holds no malice or anything akin to that, and Gokudera blinks, blushing more.

"What?!" He snaps, still looking kind of soft. The cat begins to knead his leg with his oversized paws, and he winces in pain, telling the kitten to stop. He doesn't, of course, and he sits down on the leg-bed, looking like a drowned rat.

"H-Hayato has a cat." He giggles. "And the cat looks so small." He reaches out a hand to pet the feline on the head with a single finger, and the tiny creature mewls and flicks his bent tail, purring. Takeshi laughs again. "And he is cute, too."

He ignores the skinniness of the animal, the matted locks of his fur, and the always-going-to-be-broken tail.

"H-He's not my cat, I found him--" Of course it's his cat. He just wasn't going to admit that. He swats at the cats face, and he bites the boy's finger in reaction. "—I just don't want him to die, no matter how evil he is!!" He growls, trying to yank his finger out of the kitten's mouth. Uri wasn't giving up.

"Uri, you-"

"'Uri'?"

"YES, Uri, it's a nice name, is there a problem with that?" He huffs, sitting back, and gives up. There was no winning against the worlds most stubborn cat, it seemed. Allowing his finger to get chewed, he turns his green gaze to the ceiling, letting out a great sigh which rattled him. "He was going to die in that shed… he was going to drown." He waggles his finger, and the kitten purrs in delight and chews a little harder. "I couldn't leave him there."

Yamamoto is confused- this boy was so rough, yet, totally not at the same time.

"… If Hayato is coming to live with me for a day, Uri can come to?" Takeshi blinks.

Contemplation and mild shock.

And disbelief and milder trust.

"…….Y-You'd…" He feels that thing in his chest again, and it hurts. So nice, so nice. Why the hell was this guy so nice… why was he helping him, of all people? He still didn't understand. He wanted an answer that revolved around reason, not philosophy or something indirect like that. So as the city began to speed by, a blur of colours, he turned to the other once more, his matted and half-alive looking kitten wearing a cattish grin in happiness, and his owner the complete opposite, looking sad and forlorn.

"Thank you." He says honestly, that familiar shade of scarlet appearing over his face. "But, you still haven't answered my question…"

"Question?" Takeshi mimics. "Hmm?"

"Why are you helping me really? Don't say because you help everyone, or because you feel guilty, or because you just want to help, but REALLY, why are you helping?"

He appeared to think for a second.

And this time, when he opens the mouth, he tells the whole truth.

"I'm locked up all day… so I don't have any friends that don't work for me." He looks down to his feet, feeling faintly embarrassed. "I don't have anyone to talk to."

One night, just one night.

And Hayato shuts up.

He turns to look back out the window, his face still sad looking as the car races to where its supposed to be. Damn it…now he felt bad just for asking. He didn't have any friends just because no-one wanted to be his friend, of course… except Uri. No matter how much Uri scratched him, Uri was his friend. And he was discovering that people didn't have these secret motives, they didn't need to have a selfish reason to do good in the world, they just needed a reason to make themselves and others happy… and he couldn't be more grateful for the other for all that he had done. But his pride and nature didn't allow him to say it out loud. His eyes were shining with gratitude—surely Yamamoto could see that right?

He dips his head in thanks.

And the other flashes him a smile.

The house came into view fast; a black silhouette on the dark background, and it loomed like a great animal over its territory. It was a sprawling maze of stone, and Gokudera almost didn't want to look at it- but even in the dark, it looked like a kind of palace. The floor below the car became hand-paved irregular-shaped stone, and the trees became clean and cut and orderly. The house itself had windows blazing with light, even in the gloom, and there were great sets of gates they stopped at, with an intricate design of circles and lines and everything confusing. And as they swung open, his eyes lighted up with some kind of desire to just touch it—

--But he hated it, too.

And as the image of the house reflected in his now bright green eyes as he remained stupefied, his cat stays asleep on his lap like a little ginger-brown splotch of paint, and Yamamoto leans over to the other to look out the window he is looking out of.

"I hope you like it here." He chuckles at his reaction, and Gokudera can't respond.

He'd like it.

And then he'd loathe it.

Because at the end of it all, he was still a poor boy, one with a missing mother, an always missing father, and a little cat.

And a stranger with everything that he didn't have.

Evidently,

Lonely people attracted each other.


	4. Entrance

Hi guys! :'D Thank you so much for reviewing, it really inspires me to write faster egwewefbwetb! **SHOWERS REVIEWERS IN LOVE**

I hope you like this, too! xD I am making their relationship move so slowly... SIGH, it was supposed to be love at first sight!? xD

x

* * *

_You amaze me_

_So much;_

_These reoccurring surprises_

_Please don't play games _

_With me, because_

_You know I like it._

…

_I am a bad sort of person._

"_Birdsong";_

_~*~Chapter 4; Entrance.~*~_

He is utterly amazed.

He barely had the courage to step into the house, let alone sleep there for the night- it stunned him, honestly and truly. Nothing about the building was brutal in architecture or features; it was all elegant and pretty and not-like-anything-he-had-seen-before. There was the feeling of sickness deep down, as if he wasn't supposed to be there; 'It's a trap! They'll kill you!" His mind was screaming, and upon walking through the door, he began to back up nervously like a frightened animal- bumping into the others chest softly. He looked up. The other looked down.

"Hey, Hayato, you shouldn't be scared." He smiles kindly. "Its just a house!"

Just a 'house'? HE had lived in a house. This was a _palace. _

It was like being caught in a world of colour, and he was the only black and white thing there, sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the glamour and splendour of the walls and furniture and tables and even the _chairs _cost more than his entire life. And it was intimidating. He was scared of walking in case he ruined the floors and he was scared of touching anything and Uri was squirming in his hands; was this panic? Gently, he pets the little cat to try and calm him down a little.

"Y-Yeah, I guess…" He answers after a severe delay. "…You are so rich."

Yamamoto wasn't sure about the tone that that was said in, but he remains as cheerful as ever regardless.

"I guess, it's a pretty big house." He looks around as if he had never seen it before. Hayato scoffed. "But as long as Hayato is staying here, he can do what he wants, ok?"

Gokudera wondered what else he'd want to do in the house besides sleep and hopefully contact his fathers building to find his mother, but he says nothing and keeps his lips zipped. He mirrors the others movements, first along a huge cream coloured hallway with royal blue drapes on the ceiling and the same shade running along the walls, and then into a warm looking room with an eight person dark-wood table and curved chairs with feather padding. The wall has mounts on it, not animal heads, but artwork, and weapons of all kinds. The floor is smooth beneath his worn out shoes, and there is a patterned rug beneath everything, including a row of cupboards containing fine china and trophies. Yet again, he was almost tempted to back out, but cautiously, as if there was a gun against his head, he starts forward after the other boy, who is sitting down and taking off his shoes. Gokudera simply presses his toes into his heels and flicks them off in a not-so-delicate manor.

"Ne, Hayato, this is the first eating place."

"….The first?"

"There is another in another wing, but I like this one more because of the pretty pictures." Yamamoto laughs. "And this room is always warm."

Then why was Gokudera shivering. Hugging the cat close to him, even Uri had stopped wiggling and was looking around curiously. Now standing there in dull grey socks with his shoes beside him, his soaked hoody and his tiny cat, Hayato realised that this was going to be an experience he wasn't going to forget anytime soon. After all, he had only been into a single room, and already he was breathless and afraid and he felt stupid for following a stranger; he could hear his mother now- "Hayato, I thought you were old enough to know not to trust anyone!!" and it made him whimper a little bit. He was afraid, clearly, and dipping his head quickly, he began to back out again, very slowly.

How stupid. He was falling at the last hurdle. However he was acting on pure instinct, punishing himself for his rashness earlier. Normally, anyone else in his position would be glad to take the extra help. Normally, any _sane _person would take the extra help if it was ever offered. However, that kind of light feeling in his head which he identified as 'happiness' was being marred by the scale of everything in the building. Indeed, he didn't think the higher end of society lived like this. Not this nicely.

"I-I'm sorry, I can't stay, I mean-"

He backs out a little further, and Yamamoto tilts his head. There was concern in his gaze for reasons the other couldn't fathom, but either way he was still jittery.

"I should go home, I don't bel-"

And with expert timing, thunder rattled the house as a reminder of the storm outside, like an omen from some sort of God, and how far he was _away_ from his house. The boy jumped, startled, and at his reaction, Takeshi did too. They both looked at the ceiling as if it was divine intervention, and the silver haired boy was successfully stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he slunk towards the table and sat down (in what he hoped was a decent manner) with a frown firmly planted on his face. Uri looked up at him and batted his cheek softly, but he paid no attention. The gaze of the rich boy was now a little saddened and disheartened.

"Are you ok, Hayato?"

Was he… _ok?_

"Yeah." He swallows nervously, and counts the grain on the table. "Y-Yeah, I am fine, whatever."

"…Sorry."

They both look up and lock sight with each other, and each was a little upset with the others look. Why was he apologising again? Oh, because he felt as if he had pressured Gokudera to join him at his house, somewhat against his will… maybe he had come on too strong. Maybe. But he couldn't help it, he was Takeshi after all… fingering the tables edge nervously, he struggles to hold the others stare.

"I'm… I'm sorry I forced you here. It isn't right to take people in so casually, a-aha…"

"…. No, I willingly came with you…" Gokudera frowned. "I need your help… no matter if I want to admit it or not. I-I can't do this alone…"

And is a hard thing to admit indeed.

"I don't want Hayato to feel bad though… H-Hey, is there anything Hayato wants?"

The silver haired boy stares at the other with a flickering gaze that held little to no emotion. Was there anything he wanted? Yes, a phone. But he had to wait. So what was the next back thing? Funnily enough, when you had lived a life with next to nothing at your disposal, there wasn't much you wanted… he can't think of a single thing. Something nags at him to take the opportunity, as the other had given it freely after all, but maybe, out of the politeness and the feeling of being indebted to the other, he declines, shaking his head softly. He didn't want to look like he was using the other- then again, since when had it mattered if he was using someone or not?

"Really?" Takeshi was a little downhearted by the answer. He was really trying hard, and didn't seem to care if that was evident or not. "Is Hayato hungry?"

… Food wasn't something he needed, but more 'wanted'. At home, he was used to the 'hunting' policy- whatever he got, he could eat, and he'd get things for his mother, too. He was like the alpha of a two person pack… but even then, he was still very hungry for the most part. And it was normally all the time. His body had paid a heavy toll for this kind of lifestyle, for he was scrawny, got tired easily, and he got hurt and bruised at the littlest of things. He had never seen a doctor before in his life- not a proper one, anyway, and his body bore its own museum of scars and cuts and scrapes and all sorts. This was not unnoticed by Yamamoto, who, though skinny, was well built, had muscles, and was tall. And of course, felt a kind of innate concern for the other. Gokudera continued on staring.

"…Hayato?"

"Hmm?" He snapped out of his trance, a little startled.

"Would you like to eat something?"

"Um… ok?"

"Aha, what would you like?"

"…What?" There was another problem. He hadn't exactly tasted all the food in the world, and he new very little about the types of dishes that lay outside town, the ones in fancy shops he walked past sometimes. And to him, even the most simple of things were good enough- food was for survival, not pleasure. "….I'll... have whatever you are having?"

"That's very open-minded of you, Hayato." The other laughs. If it was one thing the tanned boy did way too much, it was laughing. Gokudera was slowly picking up on traits of his personality, getting used to being referred to constantly in third person for some reason and being generally exposed to the other boys happiness at the most minor of things. He didn't care much- it was kind of annoying, but he wasn't in a position to complain. "Stay here, I'll go tell them."

And with that, the taller of the two stretches, looking pleased he had accomplished something, and exited the room, leaving Hayato and his cat to stare after them. He looks down at the little animal, brow furrowed, and it stares back at him in wonder, ears high and alert.

"He's an odd person, Uri." He whispers to the cat. "Who the hell would ever want to help _us _and expect nothing in return... lonely or not." After all, he had little to give _but_ companionship- which, ironically, the rich boy was really after.

Uri meows quietly in response to this statement, shifting little.

"No, I doubt he would want to hurt us- he would have done it already. But, even if I cannot spot things… you can, right? Can you keep a look out for me?" For some reason, 'hurt', 'pain', and 'murder' were the things that kept coming back in his mind. He had been taught to fear people growing up, especially the rich… and although he himself was just an average person with bad luck, he still couldn't help but exclude himself from the majority of the town. He didn't _live _with the rest of the town, after all.

...But then again, Takeshi didn't live with the rest of the town either.

His frown deepens, and with a pale hand, he lets the kitten wrap his tiny arms around an finger and chew the top intently with his sharp teeth. It hurt, but it didn't really matter- the cat enjoyed chewing on him for some odd reason. But he loved it. He loved the attention so much. All those times he had gone hungry to feed Uri was worth it. If it gained him a best friend… then he'd do it again and again and again.

Slowly, he reaches down and kisses the top of the kittens head, with a shaky smile and love in his dully shaded eyes.

They formed a promise, together, to watch Yamamoto Takeshi very carefully, and to look after each other in their times of need.

Laughter.

Bristling quite suddenly, he jumps out of his chair, nearly losing his grip on Uri in his alertness. He swivels around to spot Takeshi, leaning against the door frame, with an aura of utter happiness. Gokudera flushes. Hard. How long had he been standing there?! Since the beginning!? Would he be thrown out now? No, the other wasn't that cruel. But he was still incredibly embarrassed- not only had he been possibly caught talking about the other, it was the fact he was talking about him to a CAT which made everything worst. He didn't want the other thinking he could so freely express love for something…

To freely express love… it wasn't is nature to do so.

However… the other didn't look mad. At all. He inclined his head in wonder and studied him intently. How… calming. It gave him a little peace of mind, and this made his initial guilt fade a bit. Maybe he didn't hear after all. Or maybe he was an incredibly good actor.

"You know, if Hayato gets what he wants," Takeshi crouches down, low to the floor, and holds out something. "Uri gets whatever he wants too."

Uri squirms, and Hayato is forced to release him. The kitten dashes on his wonky legs over to the boy, his kinked tail held high, and a high pitched purr coming from his tiny body. Yamamoto has a little strip of fish that looks so good even Hayato was tempted to wander over there and steal it himself, and Uri is positively delighted. He kitten takes it gently in his jaws, and scampers off to a corner with it hanging out of his mouth, Two sets of gazes follow him as he goes. And then they both look at each other again.

"…Uri says thank you." Gokudera says, looking away with the flush still plastered on his face. However, his was attempting to resist the urge to smile. And it was hard. In return, Yamamoto looked back at him, blinking in a wide eyed and let a smile of his own appear.

"Tell Uri I said 'No problem'."

And they were both grinning.

By the time they got food, Gokudera's expression is unwaveringly bright, amazed, and alert. Takeshi had gotten things that he had never even seen before. They were brought out on pretty looking dishes of silver and gold, and there were napkins laid for eight people even if there was only two of them. He couldn't help but catch the gaze of every worker he came across, sometimes nastily, but they all seemed to be somewhat decent and gave him the benefit of the doubt. When they finish, they bow respectfully to Takeshi, who simply waves back childishly (earning a grin from at least three quarters of the crew; clearly, he was loved) and turn to him to do the same motion. He doesn't follow the other, and bows back the best he can, taking a seat in one of the grand looking chairs. Uri, having finished his fish, comes to sit by his feet. It had been something entirely new and foreign to him.

There are so many colours, and so many pretty designs… even if the food fills up an quarter of the eight person table, Gokudera can't find the courage to eat anything more than a few mouthfuls of some soup he thinks looks funny. It was a subtle shade of pink, and there was a curious pink animal on the side, looking as if it was eating the soup too. He stares at it, wondering if it was alive, as Takeshi munches happily on his own variety. He stops upon noticing the others stare.

"Hayato?"

"….What is this?" Using a finger, he prods the top of the creature, finding the shell to be smooth and warm. He snaps his hand back as though he had been bitten, and frowns at it. Its little black eyes continue to stare back.

"It's a 'prawn', Hayato."

"'Penaeus monodon'? Or maybe some other sub-species..."

"…What?"

"….That's what a prawn is."

"….What?"

He gives up. He had only seen these things in books before, anatomical studies of the creatures internal workings… it wasn't the same when you looked at it in real life. It was almost… beautiful. No matter how ugly he thought a 'prawn' was.

He decides to leave the little creature on its perching place and continues to eat the soup delicately. The flavour made him want to cry- it was stunning. And by 'stunning' he meant that he wanted to eat it until he was sick- but he was brought up with manners, and he didn't think his body could take it, so he didn't even try. At some point, Uri had joined them at the top of the table, and the tanned boy hadn't cared- the kitten was eating ravenously, and like his owner, had enough sense to stop when he was supposed to, regardless of the amount he _could _have eaten.

And slyly, Takeshi was watching them, almost making sure that Hayato and the kitten were eating. They were thin after all- and he didn't want them to be thin, because that was bad… his brown eyes flickered. He was watching very, very closely. He found it fascinating, the curving of the others neck, the movements of his throat, the way his jaw worked, the kind of automatic look his face wore, the tapping of his free hand at the table- he finds it all fascinating, and only looked away because he was afraid of being caught staring. Hayato doesn't not notice. Eating was eating.

By the end of it, he doesn't want to move- and neither does his cat, who had curled up on his lap and had begun to knead him with his claws. Yet again, it hurt, and yet again, he only winced a few times.

And so, he becomes focused on the other boy.

They were constantly looking back and forth at each other.

Yamamoto, to him, looks infinitely happy- he is smiling like an idiot at everything, as if it was going to smile back. He wonders, when he was alone, if he smiled like that too? Nonsense. What would be the point? However he did give off the air of a happy idiot that found joy in the simple things in life. Gokudera wishes he was like that. In fact, he is a little envious- after all, he had the ability to feel sad and angry and all these other emotions that the other hadn't even given an indication of yet.

And what sort of stupid person was oblivious to such staring?

Almost on cue, they lock gazes, and this time, Takeshi has his mouth full and a fork sticking out from between his lips as he pauses- it looks stupid. But for some reason, he isn't smiling, and looks kind of surprised, even if the other isn't sure what he is surprised about. And Gokudera looks back, surprised that he is surprised and his green eyes flicker. The other blinks. For some reason… he didn't want to look away. Neither of them did. Hayato felt genuine interest for someone his age, as after all, he hadn't had the chance to be friends or even meet someone like him before. And Takeshi… he was just curious. There is an odd feeling to the air, and a evident tension- but not the sort of negative tension that people often avoided, but the kind of attention which drew them to inspect the other closer. Very much so, they were different. As different as night and day, in fact.

But they both share a kind of hidden pain, and each other realises this; they can relate. They have a lot more in common than they first thought, in fact…it's a little odd. Maybe it really was fate that made them meet. And maybe Gokudera was happy about that. After all, even if the other was a little… slow with everything sometimes, the dept of his eyes… he was genuinely what he appeared to be, for he found no malice. And in the dull green, the richer boy found only a deep sadness hidden underneath a mask of anger and fright… and it hurt him a little. But they hold their gaze, for as long as they can…

Until almost simultaneously, they both look away shyly to the side, and Yamamoto swallows his food and Gokudera makes a sound of annoyance towards his cat. The tension in the air breaks, and that 'feeling' disappears.

Distraction.

However, with that final look, the dinner is over, and Takeshi calls in the workers again.

And Hayato…

… Is left with a feeling in his chest which hurts him.

He grips the edge of the table again.

Why was he opening up to the other so easily?


	5. Room

Hey guys! xD This is one of my favourite chapters so far- It was so fun to write ewqrhwqerhweh. xDDD

Remember, reviewww! The more reviews, the faster the update OHOHOOH. -Is serious lol- -SHOT-

I love you, thanks for reading! xD

* * *

_I saw a cloud_

_Shades of yellow and pink_

_Remember once;_

_We watched them together_

_Lying on thick grass_

_On a gentle afternoon._

…

_Where did those times go?_

"_Birdsong";_

_~*~Chapter five: Room.~*~_

He was wandering.

And he was wandering with the other.

It feels like forever, but when they finally start moving, its so slow he wonders if they are even moving at all. Maybe they aren't. All of the corridors look the same, they are all regal and beautiful and they all curve and mold and become one with another, and its confusing. But Yamamoto looks confident, and it reassures him- and so, out of fear of getting lost, he stays close to him, at some places close enough for the tanned boy to hear him breathe, and Uri is in his arms, looking sleepy. The lights were getting low now, and there was mid-darkness shuffling into the corridors smoothly, casting their shadows high against the wall. The rightful occupant of the house explains that happens to save electricity. The guest just stares in awe and mild wonder.

What worries him the most is that he has no idea where he is going. There are so many rooms they past, and he is scared to ask the other- why was he scared? He didn't know. Maybe it was because he was starting to fear that the other was taking him to a secret cove in the depths of the grand house, where there would be chains and blood and no-one could hear him scream-

"Here, Hayato!" The other chirps. "Its your room."

Oh.

He was almost afraid to go in, but the other stepping aside is an indication for him to move that he can not refuse. Sighing, he pushes the door open, pokes his head in... and slams the door shut in a flurry of exaggerated motion. Hard.

"W-What?!"

Takeshi looks at him in the same confused manor in which he normally looked at the boy whenever he did something mildly out of the ordinary.

"Hmm, Hayato?"

"I-I can't sleep in there!!"

"Aahah!" The other laughs. "Hayato is so funny sometimes!" Sometimes?! He had only known the other for a few hours. "Of course you can sleep there. Or do you want to shower first or something?"

For some reason, a hot flush spreads over the others skin, and he cannot get rid of it. It isn't unnoticed by the other, who chuckles a little. This frustrates him further.

"N-No, its just, where will you sleep?" He manages to choke out.

"….In my bedroom, Hayato?"

"You mean… that isn't the master bedroom!?"

He swings open the door again.

This room is bigger than his entire _house._

It wasn't cream like the halls- it's a pale kind of blue which is white on the ceiling, and then fades into a deep, dark blue, like the sky meeting the ocean. It has two doors coming off of it, a wardrobe which touches the white at the top and pretty looking furniture scattered on the blue, like stranded boats, but unbelievably pretty boats all the same. The bed itself is like a giant cruise liner; pale, gallant looking, and gleaming. It has twilight blue drapes encircling the top, which match the colour of the drawn curtains, hiding the storm behind. Everything is finished in gold, sparkling at the edges of every object like dew on the fresh morning grass, and the only exception is the chandelier, which is also gold yet grand, and hanging majestically from the ceiling like the sun in amidst the glory of the settings. Unintentionally, he gasps, spell bound. Yet again, he is afraid to get anything dirty, for yet again he is somewhere that feels uncomfortable to be in. Luxury clearly didn't go well for him. The other isn't bothering to scan his facial impressions, as it was obvious what he thought.

"You like it, right, Hayato?" The rich boy feels tempted to push him in before he can run away, but refrains. And as he predicted, the boy backs away, feeling a little lost.

"Yes, but…" He looks to the floor. "…."

That bed room was…

… Kind of _lonely?_

"…But?"

"O-Oi, is it ok if there is anywhere… smaller?"

"…Smaller?"

He shakes his head. No.

"There is nowhere smaller, Hayato. Only bigger?"

Why the hell did rooms need to be this big?

He can't help his fear. Maybe it was childish, but he didn't want to be alone in someone's house, not one as big as this, where he could possibly die in the halls looking for a way to escape. He rubs a finger over Uri's head, and the little kitten was unresponsive… he was asleep. Curse him for not helping.

The grey haired boy didn't have the courage to say what he wanted to. He wanted to ask the tanned boy something that would probably get him kicked out, but it wasn't his fault. It was safer… in pairs, right- Damn it! Damn this damned house to hell! It made him want to curl up and hide permanently, for there was no feeling of 'home' anywhere- just wealth in the form of grand architect and objects. And he hated it. He remembered, coming up to the house, he knew he'd hate this sort of place… but at the same time, he wants to search it over and over again, he wants to discover everything inside it, and more. But he was still scared. He was sure he'd be attacked, or thrown out in the middle of the night, when he least expected it- he could see it now. The other often invited poor people to the house to dispose of them, right? His imagination was wild. But it didn't deter from the fact that indeed, it was safer in twos…

Safer…

"…T-Takeshi?" He looked up at the other timidly. He hated feeling like this.

"Hmm?"

"……..Would it be ok….." He breathed out slowly. "……If I could sleep somewhereneartoyoubecauseIdon'twanttobe… alone."

The other took a moment to process these words slowly.

"…. Hayato wants to sleep in the same room as me?"

The hot flush returned, and bristling slightly, he resisted the urge to flail about- after all, he was holding the cat. Instead, he made a strangled noise in the back of his throat with came out as a soft whine. Yamamoto began laughing again.

"W-Whats so funny, idiot!?"

"Hayato's face is a funny colour?"

He makes the strangled noise again, and the colour gets a little darker.

"At any rate, Hayato can sleep where he wants." The other pushes the door to that room shut softly, and smiles. "I don't really mind. It will be like… a sleepover, right?"

"A sleepover…? But I am here for a reason. Remember your promise." He warns, his green eyes flickering.

"But if you are here... you might as well have fun, if its just for one night?"

Could that count as logic?

Frayed, emotion wise, the poorer boy messes up his already scruffy hair with a single hand and sighs repeatedly, almost to the point where he is hyperventilating. The other gazes at him in mild worry; which prompts him to whack the tanned boy other the head in a somewhat gentle manor. The message was to get him to stop making that expression- and Takeshi blinks, looking a little startled, before laughing again. The message had not gone through completely. Figures.

But it was at this moment that he realises his thoughts were confirmed… he was getting a little too used to the other for comfort. After all of this, what was going to happen? Was he expected to forget everything, go back to his little house, an island on a sea of mud, and live with his broken mother and ever absent father? How could he forget all of this care? The other was slowly carving a hole in him, one that was making him attached to the others company, that made him want to stay longer… how selfish. He was a selfish person after all. His mother was out their, probably worried sick, and he just wanted to stay longer… not even for the house, but for the others company. It made him feel happy.. HE made him feel happy.

It was like if you lived in a world of black and white for your entire life, and then all of a sudden, there is a patch in the world which is colour, beautiful colour, and it warms him to the point of making him want to hum happily. However, he tries not to show this on the outside. Was this… what friendship really was? _Friendship?_ The other was staring at him as he thought with a bright expression, his eyes warm.

…..

This kind of feeling…

"Y-yeah," He swallowed nervously, "I'll sleep in your room… but I swear!!" He beings to storm off in a random direction, and wide eyed, the other follows him like a puppy, "Touch me, and you are dead!!"

Now even Yamamoto chokes.

"R-Right!" He looks determined. "I will not touch Hayato!"

Wait... was he planning too in the first place?! Gokudera almost laughs. Almost. The other was such an idiot, he couldn't even comprehend simple things like that. But in fact, in the low glow… was that a slight pink tinge to Yamamoto's face too…? He gave up with hiding his own, and for once, he smiles at the others face instead of the other smiling at his.

"You are such a perverted moron." Gokudera says simply, and allows him to take his rightful place as leader, so he didn't get left. Takeshi takes it all in his stride, and begins to walk.

"Aha, Hayato, but I like you!"

The silver haired boy stops walking. And starts. He doesn't want to be suspicious… but he could have sworn his heart just stopped for a split second. Heat rushes to his face, when it was just leaving it, and he gets a little breathless. W-what?! What did that mean?! Did he mean… oh god, they had only just met, and already, this- he was quite sure he was going to get raped now. Defiantly. The other was a sexual predator stalking the streets for chil-

…More importantly, why was he having all these thoughts in the first place?

….

…Why would Takeshi like him like _that?_ He had to stop thinking that.

…

"W-What do y-you mean by t-that?!" He coughs. The other turns around, smiling… in a way that made the other choke just a little more. He couldn't help it. That damned expression…

"Hayato is really fun to be around! He's also funny and he doesn't want anything, like a good person... he doesn't lie, either. I am fine with being an idiot!"

"Why are you talking about me as if I am not here?"

"Aha, this is why I like Hayato. I want him to be my friend after this. You can be my friend, right?"

What a childish thing to say.

But he felt as if he had to say it. Yamamoto Takeshi wasn't the sort of person who thought about what he wanted to say before he said it. He kind of just… went with the flow. And he did like Hayato. He found it odd how they hadn't known each other long, and yet had got on like they were best friends already… he didn't think the other would request to stay in his _room _though. Not that he minded. Maybe someone else there would make the place a little less lonesome feeling… and Hayato wanted to, so it was ok, right? On the outside, he remained grinning. Yes, that was definitely the truth.

Hayato was a great person to be friends with.

"…Takeshi. Why am I so interesting to you?" He asks it just because he cannot possibly see how someone would like him. These insecurities plagued him.

The question threw the tanned boy off a little.

"W-Well…" He scratched his chin. "Hayato has a rough time at home, so it looks like, and he doesn't live in the better part of town… and his mother is missing, and yet, he is still able to smile and joke around with me, even if his eyes are still sad." His own smile gets a little sadder. "It shows that Hayato maybe wants to be my friend back, ne?"

Silence.

"…………..Whatever."

He pouts, and continues on walking. Naturally, the other took this as a 'yes', and his expression is utterly gleeful. And when they get to Takeshis room, he is STILL happy, and Gokudera looks faintly amused. None the less, he pushes open the others door, to be as shocked as he was the first time he saw the guest room. But this time, he was a little more confused. The boy swings his head to glance at the other curiously.

"…What." He points in the room. The other blinks.

"Its my room, Hayato."

"…. I know that. But," He looks back into the space, "… I didn't think…"

Wow.

The room was hot red, with a high ceiling and gold accents… but it was small. Not small, but way smaller than the other room. It kind of looked… normal for a boy of his age- there were baseball stars Hayato didn't know the names of on the wall, and there was books piled neatly on a desk to the side of the double bed, the same colour as the walls. And the floor is smooth and wooden under his feet, and his toes curl in his socks pleasantly. Apart from the baseball figurines around, a bat in the corner, a glass cabinet and a chair… that was it. How could someone so rich settle just for this?! The tanned boy walks past him happily and jumps onto the bed, crossing his legs. The other waits at the door hesitantly.

"You can come in you know, Hayato."

The silver haired boy still couldn't believe he was doing this. And he tiptoes into the room nervously.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." He grumbles, but he doesn't sit down. He puts Uri on the corner of the bed, ho flops, rolls over, and then faces away, purring happily. The bed was so soft… the kitten wanted to live there permanently. Hayato looks kind of skittish and awkward, and the other tilts his head.

"Now I need to find Hayato something to wear."

"W-What?!"

"Like pyjama's, Hayato! I wear them, look-" He leans over, fishing around in his draw with his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth in concentration, and whips out some hot red pyjamas- with little baseballs on them. Some of them have smiling faces, and he points to them with his own face portraying sheer delight. "See?"

The other face palms, again.

"I know what they are, but you don't really need to… I am fine in my clothes."

"No you are not… you should wear night-clothes. You can have some of mine?"

"What?! Have you seen the size difference between us?" He flushes hard, realising what he said, and getting something sexual out of it. The other seems completely oblivious. But it doesn't matter what he says anyways, because the other is already fishing in that draw again, and he pulls out pale blue pyjamas like the other room, in a checker design, and holds them out to the other. They were… new? They still had their tag on them. Eyes flickering, he raises his gaze to the other.

"…. You sure?"

"Aha, Hayato, its just clothing. I have lots of clothing I don't even use… or that I haven't even worn before!"

The other frowns, showing raw emotion. He felt sad and happy again, that strange combination of… He… he couldn't place it. It was like that warm crawling in his chest that made him bite his lip, made him want to feel more… but he didn't know what was triggering it. He flushes harder. Che, this was so pathetic of him… and his face fixes into the same scowl he usually wore, barriers up. Yet again, the other seemed clueless to this.

"W-Whatever!! Turn around, pervert, I am not getting undressed in front of you!!" He himself turns around, and motions for the other to do the same. Yamamoto spins on his bed and faces a wall, humming, looking cheery that the other had accepted the object. "And stay facing that way."

Grumbling, he pulls off his hoody to reveal his bare skin. The bumps of his spine. He curves of his ribs. Bruising. He puts the bed top on in a flash, before the other can see anything, and then gets a little nervous again. Taking off his trousers… w-whatever, the other guy was an idiot, it was nothing. He shouldn't be so self conscious. The boy fingers the belt nervously and tugs it out of the loop, letting it clank loudly to the floor, and his trousers slide down his legs. The boy makes sure he has one eye on Takeshi, and one eye on the clothing. He yanks the bed pants up. The other didn't turn around. At all. He was relieved.

"…You can look now." He sighs. "…This looks so stupid."

The other spins around, and first makes a look of amusement—

Gokudera catches it.

….What was that emotion that just flickered across the tanned boys gaze

Hayato Gokudera was a short boy. He was a short boy with a kind of small body- and Takeshi was the opposite. So Gokudera is drowning in his clothes. His hair is messed up by pulling the top on, and it sticks up in odd places cutely. The sleeves go past his hands, and because of this, the neck is pulled down to one side so far the whole of his left shoulder is exposed and the curve of his collar bone is peaking out from the top of the fabric. It dips all the way until half way down his chest, where it fades off into a sharp 'v' shape. There is an odd flush of purple just about visible, just about see able… but the other moves his eyes off that, trying to forget it. He would worry all the same. The silver-haired boys trousers barely hugged his hips, baggy, and low down- but luckily, the length of his top covers anything before any skin can be exposed there. The very tips of his toes are poking out from the fabric bunched at his ankles, and agitated, he boy reaches up and allowing the long sleeve to fall back down his arm a little, and attempts to flatten his hair. The flush stays on his face.

Takeshi isn't sure if its pity he can feel… or something else.

This emotion didn't register with him, but at the same time, he craved it; just like the other did. He felt warm, like he wanted to go hug the other… but that was stupid. Hayato wasn't a child, he didn't need hugging… his frown of inner concern perks back into a smile at the others glaring, and he laughs, feeling a little hot all of a sudden.

"A-Aha, too big!" He mewls, his voice kind of broken. "But its fine, because Hayato looks fine in them."

And Gokudera wants to throw a chair at him for that statement. What sort of guy said another guy looked 'fine' in too big clothing?

"C-Che, whatever." He remains standing, but he goes to turn around. "Your turn now."

The tanned boy chuckles, his hands already at the bottom of the shirt.

And in one swift motion, he whips it off… not really allowing the other time to turn around.

….

Hayato blinks. And blinks again. And then the blood rushes to his face so fast he nearly faints.

Hey

Why

Am

I

Feeling

Like

This

All

Of

A

Sudden.

……………. It's a good feeling.

What is that word again?

'Friendship'?

If this feeling was friendship…

…it was an odd kind of friendship indeed.

"Takeshi…"

His voice was barely above a whisper.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"


	6. Sleeping

Lack of motivation and school killed me a bit erhwtrjrjt. I like this chapter too, so much description LMAO. xD

Reviewwwwwwws are everything they make me feel warm and happy. ;; So please review! w

x

And also, so the plot begins, FINALLY LOL.

* * *

_Spending days at your side_

_I realise now, I treasure you_

_Above all else-_

_My angel,_

_My saviour,_

_I leave my life in your hands._

…

_I regret nothing._

"_Birdsong":_

_~*~Chapter six: Sleeping.~*~_

Yamamoto Takeshi.

The females of the house swooned for him on a daily basis; he was the unobtainable prize they all wanted, and they took competitions to serve him, do whatever he wanted; even if he didn't ask for much at all. He was handsome, nice, always happy, and never abused power- in a way, he was almost.. perfect? And so they fought. He wasn't oblivious to this; He'd always laugh and tell them there are better people in the world. And they'd always answer that there wasn't. It was like a fanclub, based entirely in his house, and he didn't mind it really; it meant people would talk to him more. However, he never started a relationship with them. He'd been asked out so many times, but each time, he was forced to reject them. The girls cried, but they never gave up. Takeshi had never been in a relationship, because he never went outside enough to see other people, and so he didn't bother trying anymore- the girls would always be there. And he'd always be smiling.

If Gokudera knew all of this, he could now understand why he was so liked.

Along with that shining personality… his body was… Hayato stares, long and hard. The other catches sight of the staring, and blinks, not really understanding what the other could be looking at.

Hayato wasn't a girl, after all.

And he often walked around the house topless.

Aside from his oddly tanned skin (for he was evidently Asian- what a curious colour), his body was like some sort of sculpture. Every muscle was perfectly in place, in a neat row at his stomach, hard at the tops of his arms, stark at his chest… and yet, everything was soft and warm looking. There wasn't a single mark on him- his skin was flawless and bright looking, like his temperament, and smooth, too… except the other couldn't help but notice the slim line of hair that reached up from the line of his trousers to his naval. Without the high collar of his shirt, it reveals that his neck looks as strong as the rest of his body, and it perfectly compliments his jaw line which is sharp and showed little sign of roundness. He looked... sleek.

Gokudera breathed out slowly, trying to control his suddenly pounding heart. Yes, it must be the shock that was making it pound, nothing more. _Nothing more. _You see if the other hadn't startled him with that fast movement he would have been perfectly fine because he was nervous as it is and moving so fast had made him nervous and yes yes that was the reason certainly and oh god he was thinking too much.

"Y-You are an idiot!!" He yells at the other with a weak sounding voice. "Don't do things like that in front of me!!"

"But Hayato…" The others smile wavers a bit. "…We are both guys? Whats wrong with that?"

"B-Because I-I don't want to stare at your FOR FUCKS SAKE!!" He realised NOT finishing that sentence made it worse. He had meant to say 'body'. And the reasons for not wanting to stare at the others body? …. He didn't actually know what the reason was. Guys looked at each other all the time without feeling a thing, had top less wrestling matches, and some even showered together- but they didn't feel anything. Hayato felt something. But maybe that was because… he hadn't ever really seen another guy topless before. After all, it was just him and his mother… and sure enough, he didn't spend his days staring at HIMSELF in the mirror. So this… this was new. And luckily for him, Takeshi was dim and didn't catch onto the sexual catch that could have been caught there.

"You don't want to stare at my 'for fucks sake?'" The other blinked, suddenly getting a little worried, and it showed on his face. He didn't want to offend the other. But clearly, he thought the other was using some kind of street slang- he had never heard words ordered like that before. The poor boy felt like throwing that chair he thought about before again.

"F-Forget it." He grumbles, and this time, he turned around. "I refuse to look at you until you put something on."

"…Sorry Hayato." The voice sounded sad. Very sad. And Gokudera cringed. Damn it, the other thought he was upset with him… Didn't he understand yet that he was ALWAYS like this?! Clearly not. "I'm sorry if I offended you."

"N-No…" He speaks to the wall, deciding to be polite this time. "…Its my fault. Sorry for being an idiot." He can hear the other putting on clothes, the fabric sliding against his skin smoothly. Gokudera cringed again. "You don't have to apologise so much, you know."

"Finished…" The rich boy had just yanked up his trousers, and of course, his fitted him perfectly, the other turns around to see that he is still pink, not fully over the event. "A-Aha, I just want to make Hayato happy of course… I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

They stood facing each other.

One was small and weak, like the house he lived in, looking like the wind could make him tumble over….

…And the other was tall and strong, with an air of positive energy, royalty, and perfection.

Hayatos top slips down his shoulder again.

He yanks it up.

"Just shut up." He frowns. "You are doing enough, I'm happy." He didn't have the confidence to walk over to the others bed, and seeing this, Takeshi hops off his bed and blinks, making no noise as his bare feet touch the wood. The other watches. And Takeshi stares back, as if he automatically expects him to do something.

"….What?"

"Hayato is sleeping in my bed right?"

More choking.

"WITH YOU?!"

"N-NO!! I-I'm sleeping on the floor, Hayato!!"

"….But its your bed."

"So?"

"….I should sleep on the floor."

Yamamoto frowns. "I am sleeping on the floor regardless of where you sleep-"

"I am sleeping in the bed."

He storms angrily over to the beds edge and throws himself on it, under the covers, jostling Uri, who started a little before drowsily slipping back into sleep. His owner turned over to face the wall, his back to the other, and stared at its blankness moodily. Great. He was now more indebted to the other- at this rate, he'd have to become a servant here to pay it off… no, his pride wouldn't allow this good charity towards him. He would work, like the rest of society… he realises, that he hasn't heard the storm in ages. He had no idea if it was still raging or whether it had calmed, it didn't change the fact that it was mother nature herself who had pushed him into the bed of another guy, wearing his clothes, having eaten his food, and had created the circumstances that they had met under. It really was the most oddest of days… he didn't know if he was dreaming or not. A little while ago, he expected to live his house in a shack, with his mother, in a life of poverty and other such grievances. But now, it was like he had won the lottery.

He hears the other shuffling around, but he doesn't turn.

The boys heart is beating slowly against the mattress, almost seeming like it was making the bed shake, and he curls his hands at his chest, breathing in. This bed… it smelt like him. He wasn't sure what the other smelt like, for he wasn't the one to be _that _close to someone, but he was sure this what the other smelled like. It was… like chalk and fields and wood faintly of expensive aftershave and shower gel. It wasn't unpleasant, it was just… different, like it was defining the bed as his and solely his. But as he breathed, he slowly began to enjoy it a little more, letting it fill his lungs, tasting it on his tongue… he made a murmuring noise in his throat, incoherent, and nuzzled the pillow, letting the smell get in his hair, in his bedclothes…

…And he stops, with wide eyes, and doesn't know what he is doing.

Mentally hitting himself, he stops his scenting to find Uri was crawled up to his chest, under the covers, and is doing the same thing as him; rolling around, sniffing the air, looking happy. He cat opens a large eye at him and meows, and he looks back.

"…"

He boy bends his neck, so that his lips are nearly against Uri's ears, and he whispers, extremely quietly-

"Yeah, it smells good, doesn't it…" He'd admit it to Uri, because Uri was Uri and Uri was his world. The kitten meows again and bites his nose tenderly before continuing to roll. Truly, that cat was his best friend.

"Um, Hayato?" Takeshi's voice broke his moment. Grumbling, he rolls over to fix the other with a glare, and is amazed at the sheer size of the bed, too. Like the house, and his clothes, he felt like he was going to get lost. "You are ok, right?"

Hayato watches the others worried face in puzzlement. He sees the other swallow, his throat muscles ripping smoothly, before sharply looking down, embarrassed about something. The silver haired boy couldn't think why.

"… I like your bed." Hayato says slowly, trying not to let too much emotion in. He couldn't think of anything else to say, really. "Its comfortable.

The room instantly brightens with Yamamoto's grin.

"Aha, I like my bed to!" He chimes. "I like sleeping in it a lot!"

It was such a stupid statement, but it made Gokudera's chest clench. It was kind of… cute when he said that. Cute in a _childish _way.

"Tch, idiot." The poorer of the two grins, and the other hums a little before busying himself with some kind of sleeping bag… that was way bigger than a normal one. He looked a little confused as to how it opened, and he stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth in concentration like he did before, when retrieving the bed clothes. The other laughs a little, watching him with kind eyes. He felt a little sad that the other was sleeping on the floor, but he didn't seem to care that much, which was surprising. When Takeshi finally does sort it out, he gets in it on the floor, rolling around like Uri was doing in the bed a few minutes before, looking a little lost all of a sudden. Gokudera wondered how this boy was so rich, and yet, so stupid.

"Hey, you should stop moving, you'll get more tangled… And its annoying to watch."

It was annoying to watch… that, and the fact he could have sworn the others top had hitched up, revealing his stomach again. He didn't want that appeal again. Regardless, Takeshi stops rolling, attempting to untangle himself, and when he does, he breathes a sigh of relief and smiles up and the other, who is peering over the side of the bed.

"So you are ok, right?" The boy had already asked him that.

"Yes, I _just _said I was fine." He snorts, and rolls back over to stare at the wall. Out of the others view, his expression is that of confusion… internal confusion. He can still hear the other though.

"I'm happy, Hayato." The voice sounds genuinely grateful. "Thank you for spending time with me."

"… I told you to stop thanking me, idiot…" He murmurs. "…I'm happy too."

"You want to sleep, right?"

"Well, I _am _in bed."

"Aha, good night, Hayato."

"…"

He was supposed to say goodnight back, right? That was how it worked? Sighing at the unfamiliarity, he opens his mouth, but doesn't produce no noise, and instead lets the air leave him. These sort of things, this _normal _things such as saying goodnight, were foreign to him, and it made him frown even harder. His eyes fluttered close.

"…Hayato?"

"…Good night, Takeshi."

He pulls the covers closer to himself, and falls quiet. Yamamoto, on the floor, eyes the edge of the bed with his deep chocolate eyes and laughs a little, quietly contemplating the others apparent sincerity.

"_Lights off._"

And by magic, the room descends into darkness (which startles the poor boy quite a bit- since when has lighting understood the human mind?), and as soon as it disappears, the sound of the storm is evident again, and Hayato cannot seem to be able to sleep. At all. All these things around him, one of which belonged to him (He was referring to Uri alone, of course), the guy on the floor who had let him sleep in HIS bed… when he was just a stranger. The scent still hung around him, filling his nostrils, making him light headed, and he tries to breathe less so that it didn't affect him so much. He hadn't the faintest idea why it was so appealing to him.

Their breathing intermingles in the gloom.

And by the time Hayato is asleep, the light was almost shining again…

… And Takeshi is up, flexing his body as he stands on his tiptoes, yawning. The sun is beautiful- it is only just slitting around the threads of the heavy curtain, like some kind of divine holy light, and he greets the morning with a grin which matches his brightness. What a comparison! The storm had cleared beautifully, making way for the sky, blue and vast as it always was. It made him gleeful to see such an apparent beautiful day, and letting the light hit him, he turns, with a beaming smile, to the other.

"Good mo-"

He looks down.

At some point in the night, Hayato had rolled over on to his side, facing where Takeshi was sleeping, and had stayed like that. He covers are down by his waist somewhere, meaning his skinny body is on full view- His hair was ruffled against the pillow as if someone had been tussling it in the night, and his breathing was slow yet light, his slightly parted lips pressed up against the material. His hands were curled up at his chest, but could still not be seen due to the long sleeves. The oversized top is high… very high. On the side he isn't laying on, the top is pulled up all the way to near his arm, meaning a diagonal slice of his stomach and chest are open to the air.

Takeshi bit his lower lip, hard.

He can't help but stare.

The others ribs are prominent and almost jutting, creaking beneath his skin as the boy breathed, and he is pale, even more paler than he was on his face… and most startling before is a bruise which stretches from his breastbone over said ribs, ugly and purple and green, and it brings a splash of colour to his body. Eyes trailing down, he sees the thinness of the others waist, and the top of another bruise which is hidden by the cloth, just as nasty looking. What… why did the other look like this? He edged closer to the bed, utterly curious, and peeks over at the others face. The boy was out for the count, utterly exhausted, and not waking up anytime soon. He felt daring… did he dare to get closer? His footsteps reduce to shuffles, slow and quiet, trying his best not to even breathe so that the other doesn't wake.

"W-Why does Hayato look like this…"

He has to say it out loud, because his mind is blaring with worry.

And his voice is thick and heavy, as if his throat was suddenly filling with oil. He couldn't.. didn't want to believe that things could be any worse for the silver haired boy. But he didn't know. He didn't know what ever happened at Hayato's house, because he didn't know Hayato that well… but he knew that this, this was wrong. No person deserved to have bruising like that, and his thoughts wandered to the methods which could lead to the injuries… but he can think of none. Maybe this was why he didn't want the other looking? Because he'd judge him? No. Takeshi could never judge anyone, he wasn't like that… His breath caught. His legs shook. His hands trembled…

…And he reaches out.

The fingers dance over the others ribs, making his body crumble a little at the contact. Hayato felt cold, it was impossible, because he was warm and the sun was making him hotter than usual. He let his tongue slide over his lip, licking the nervous sweat away, and kept his eyes on where his hands was, letting them trail alone the curves of the bone, navigating around the hideous bruise, and close to the centre of his chest. His finger tips pressed in a little. The poor boys heart fluttered unconsciously in response, still slow, and the other marvelled at life under his hand, unable to comprehend the miracle of it all, and he became expressionless in its beauty. He counted the rhythm, one two, one two, before snatching his hand back, his face flushed. He felt like he was violating the others personal bubble, and he backs off- not before pulling down the others top extremely slowly, to cover him up more.

He felt sick… he wanted to cry. He was kind of emotionally inclined like that, he was weak when it came to hiding what he felt, and this was certainly something that moved him. But over all, something that was odd for him was happening…

… He felt angry.

And Yamamoto Takeshi was _never _angry.

Clenching his fists at the feeling, he diverts his eyes away from the others sleeping form and spins round, to exit the room. He wouldn't mention anything to Gokudera… even if he wanted to talk to him about it. He wanted to make everything better, like the nice person he was, even if it meant his time and effort and everything else he had near to him.. he didn't care. He didn't think it was justified for someone to be that thin, or to live in a house like that, to be hurt like that, to not know all the things he knew- he didn't understand why, but it was making him stronger.

He leaves a note on the side, directions to the kitchen, where he began to walk to, making sure he shut the door softly beside him. His mind was whirring with thoughts, some he didn't understand, but some he recognised clearly. It was crazy, like a whirlwind, and it was blotting out everything else. He nearly forgets where the kitchen is in his deep thinking, but greets the cook tiredly, putting on a smile for him, and asking him how the day was. The man automatically puts a glass of milk in front of the boy- his favourite- and he shakily picks it up, still looking kind of down.

As he drinks, he notices that the paper is on the side.

The headline catches his eye.

"….."

And he chokes, violently, and when he recovers he is breathing hard, looking down at the paper with a look that was startled and dilated.

If he thought things were bad for Hayato now…

….Things just got a whole lot worse.

The rich boys heart broke.


	7. Phonecall

Hi guys, this chapter is kind of sad ;; I hope I wrote it well enough, orz

Reviews plz! :3 I love to know about my readers and their reactions xD

x

* * *

_The gentle wind_

_Caresses my face-_

_And the marks you left_

_On my bare skin_

_Burn with affection._

…

_It's the good sort of pain._

"_Bridsong";_

_~*~Chapter seven: Phone call.~*~_

Its around two hours after the discovery of the paper when he sees the boy.

His clothes are barely clinging to him, his cheeks are red with the warmth of the house and his hair is fluffed up and bright looking in the rays of sunlight that flit through the window. He yawns, the note in his hand, and makes his way other to the other, looking around the kitchen curiously. How he had not gotten lost, he didn't know- it was quite a feat for him. After all, everything in the damned building looked the same.

"G-Good morning…!" Takeshi tried to keep the happy face up, for as long as he could. It was hard, however, because inside, he was shaken to his core. If the other notices it, he ignores it, and sits on the chair beside the other at the kitchen counter. They are the only two in the room.

"Mhggm." He doesn't get a 'good morning', but then again he didn't really expect it. Gokudera yawns and leans his head on the counter, letting the cold surface prick him.

"You are still tired?"

"N-No." He purrs. "I didn't want to get out of bed."

"Well then, you could have stayed in there for a little longer?" He laughed shakily.

"…That's rude." Sitting up, he folds his arms on top of the counter to look at the other with his ever studious eyes, and yelping, Yamamoto backs off a little, gaze flickering. The shorter of the two scowls, maintaining the gaze.

"Whats wrong?"

"Aha, nothing!" He sweats a little. "Hey, Hayato wants to use the phone, right? Its beautiful outside… it will work now." He leaps to his feet, completely bypassing conversation accurately and turns his back on the other. "You can ring the other house now. We have a phonebook."

It doesn't go unnoticed by the other, but he doesn't really care enough to pursue it.

"Y-Yes!" He squeaks, almost forgetting to do that. And he felt terrible for not remembering his own mother, because the bed smelled too nice or because everything was so comfortable and he felt sick again. Following after the other, and nearly tripping on his pyjama bottoms, he is handed a big book with thousands and thousands of names. He looks a little nervous.

"I don't know the name of the building… only what it looks like."

"What about the address?"

"6th street, lane 5, in the first district?"

Takeshi flips through the pages intently, letting them slide through his fingers as he looked for the correct district in their area of the country- there were many districts, after all. When he reaches the right one, He stops, and blinks. There are a page of buildings and names and numbers and other such things, and he tilts his head as if he his brain had overloaded with the information. Gokudera slides the book away from him, and looks down at it, sight running over the words.

"Have you got a pen?"

The other blinks, and walks away to get him what he wants- and when he returns, he is handed a pen which has smiley faces on the barrel and is purple in colour. He arches an eyebrow, and the other shrugs and smiles, earning a nudge in the stomach from his companion.

Hayato starts by crossing out the places that were _definitely _not the building- places that were clearly listed as eateries or connectionists or shoe makers or any place made before the time of 1890. And as the list whittles down, the jobs get more and more flashier, more fitting of the image he saw for his father. By the end of it, there were only two names left- both similar buildings, for different things. One was a maker of furniture. The other was the main building for a property firm- he jabs a finger at the latter, frowning harshly.

"It has to be this one."

There is a soft sigh, and a phone is passed to him.

"Be my guest, Hayato…"

He grasps the object tightly.

For some reason, he almost doesn't want to ring… he doesn't want to be let down or hurt again. He might even be getting his hopes up—no. No. He didn't care about his father. He fucking hated him for what he was always doing to his mother just by _breathing_. All the pain in his heart, all the angst, all the times he had stayed home alone, crying, the way they lived, the harshness of his life, the way his mother suffered- it was all his fault. All his fault. And this spurs him to pick up the phone angrily and jab in the numbers. Yamamoto watches with a worried face, a mere spectator in things. But he is curious. Luckily his staring goes unnoticed as the acute sound of ringing leaves the poorer boy speechless, and his eyes go wide with a harsh mix of excitement, fear, and hope.

The ringing ends. Some one has picked up.

"Hello, Durico and co. here. How may I help?"

"Hello!!" He yells, almost inhaling the object. "I need to speak to the owner!!"

The womans voice was questioning him. "I am sorry, the owner is a busy man and he only speaks to people of top priority. Who would you be?"

The glint in his eye gets a little dangerous.

"His son."

There is a pause, and a small gasp of surprise from the other end of the line before it is muffled, and the sound of scraping can be heard. He waits, licking his lips in anticipation, and Yamamoto leans against the counter like an excited puppy, waiting for results. He however, had little hope- Hayato wasn't that important to companies, sadly, and he might not get to talk to him… But he put on a brave face, and believed. The phone becomes unmuffled, and there is another voice.

"Hello? Who the hell is this."

"…"

And suddenly… Gokudera cannot speak. He feels something flare inside him, drowning him in emotion, making him want to cry more. He has one chance. One chance to express all the hatred he felt for the other, and that chance was now. Trying to catch his breath, he opens his mouth and looks to Takeshi, who has the same concerned expression in expectation- he receives a reassuring smile, swallows, and nods to himself, trying to regain composure.

"H-Hello." He says in a clipped way. "Is this the owner of t-this building?"

"Yes, it is. I have been informed there is some kind of relative on the phone. Who are you?"

There were nails going through his heart at every word.

"…D-Dad?"

"……………"

The silence is the worst thing of all. He wants to say more, let his emotions pour out, but he is frightened. His fingers are twitching, he keeps his gaze on the floor, his feet turned inwards, and his eyes go dull. There was no response. How ironic…maybe this wasn't the right building after all, o-or maybe the phone connection was bad—

There is laughing. Harsh, amused laughing.

"What the fuck? Listen kid, whoever you are, I am not going to help you. Go pester someone else."

His father sounds like the kind of man who liked power. The accent to his words, the way he never faltered, the quickness of the sentence flow, everything sounded like power. There was no warmth at all, nothing- just cold, hard words which were stringed together to make cold, harsh sentences. He tried not to concentrate on that too much, and rearranged his own words. He had pride. He wasn't no-one. He was whatever he wanted to be. And he speaks as confidently as he can.

"Y-You are my fucking father, you left me and mother ages ago, when I had just been born—She keeps coming to fucking see you, but you reject her at the gates!! Bastard, tell me, was she there last night, did she-"

"Shut up." The voice cuts him off. "I have only one child, and she's a beautiful little girl. I don't know about any other street rat who has a mother that apparently runs to me a lot."

"H-how could you say that?! You fucking slept with her, got her pregnant, and then left!! What the fuck is wrong with you?! I am Hayato, I am Hayato!!"

"….." The man hitches his breath, as if he suddenly recalls something, and Gokudera feels hope bloom in his chest.

"………… Hayato…."

The way the name is said is dark and the hope disappears, making the air in Yamamoto's house grim. The way he said that name… it wasn't right. It was as if he was mocking him, making him seen inhuman, like a master talking ill of a dog… he hated it. He hated the fact the other was saying his name like that, and he wanted it to end- but he had called for answers. Now that he knew the man was certainly his father and not the wrong person, he felt like he was getting somewhere.

"I never got to find out what she named you… what a disgusting name."

Hayato's heart breaks a little more.

"I suggest you stop looking for her and live your own life. You aren't my son, you never was, and I am glad I left you with her… after all, lowly people belong together, and I am of the highest caliber. You can run, kill yourself, whatever- just don't involve me. I have nothing to do with you two after last night, so leave me the fuck alone."

…. What happened last night..?

"Dad, d-dad!! So mother isn't there? Help me find he--"

The phone line goes dead.

"……."

He can't talk. He had been waiting all his life for that moment, and when it finally came, he didn't say a damn thing… he didn't get to express how much he hated that man. Chewing his lip softly, he cradles the phone to his chest, feeling empty. The words shot through him, like a knife through his chest, and it had killed him a little to think that someone could be so heartless.

"….B-bye." He finishes the phone call to himself, and lets his gaze burn holes in the floor. Takeshi doesn't know what has happened, but that look makes him start- and then that bottle green gaze is fixated on him, and he wants to back off with the amount of emotion he sees there.

The statement was simple.

"You know, don't you. What happened, that is."

And yet, he cannot… understand it.

"Hayato, why would you say something like tha-"

"You didn't even act shocked when I said she wasn't there. You kept on staring, as if you are not surprised… so either, you don't care, or, you know what happened. What is it, Yamamoto Takeshi?" His voice cracks slightly. He tries to brush off everything the man said with an air of indifferent dignity. "I'll ask you again, like when I first came in… whats wrong?"

"….."

He couldn't be the one to show him the paper, but, he did care. He cared a lot, more then he should, and there was no way he was going to admit he didn't care. Looking down to the spot where the other had been looking, he breathes in slowly, and then out. The paper was not too far away, face down, yet he gave away no hint that that would be the thing to tell the others the answers he sought. The tan boy licks his lips quietly, before saying in a slow, and sad sounding tone;

"I care, Hayato… of course I do. A-and I know, but… is it really best if you find out-"

He is stopped when a fist collides with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor hard, back hitting the tiles. Yelping, he looks up with his stinging lip and creaking jaw protesting in alarm at the boy who stood before him, the expression on his face one of pure darkness. He remains where he was, and their eyes meet again, this time, not awkwardly- but with a kind of connection.

"Takeshi," His breathing was heavy, angry, and upset. "If you have any respect for me as a person… or as a friend, you would tell me, right now, regardless of my reaction or not."

"… Please," The boy murmurs, "Don't get hurt too bad…"

The wide eyes get a little wider, and Gokudera follows the expression with a curt nod, fists still shaking not only from hitting the other, but from the phone call. He wasn't going to let himself get hurt… Nodding back, Takeshi cranes his head to look at the newspaper, before looking away sharply again. Hayato blinks. The paper…? Why would there be anything about her there…

With hasty steps, he trips over his bottoms and saves himself by clinging to the counter top the paper is on, and in his rushed emotion, he picks it up and flicks it over, his eyes darting all over the white page.

….

You know that feeling?

That feeling when you realize you now have nothing left?

At that very second, he might have well stopped existing.

Takeshi hears the paper flutter noisily to the floor in the echoing silence, and he shifts so he can see the head line he read once before.

In big, black ink,

In a big, black font,

The tile reads:

"B O D Y F O U N D: WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN STREET."

The picture accompanying it was an artists drawing of the person. Long, silver hair, accompanied by bright, green eyes, smiling. The artists view of a person… she was smiling. The text underneath it was short and blunt, the rest of the story inside, but he didn't want to read. That picture, that expression, was a rare face for her.. But he saw it, every time he did something good. She'd smile, mess up his hair, attempt happiness; and now, the world got to see her face in a way that was supposed to be just for him… he hated it. He wanted to be selfish- her love was for him, not everyone else. But… it didn't matter now, really.

Everything at that moment felt like it had fallen apart.

And he had no will to glue the broken pieces back together.

"H-Hayato?" Takeshi scrambles to his feet and rushes over to the other, who is just staring down at the papers front as if it was everything to him. His eyes were blank, no emotion whatsoever showing in those green depths, and his body was still, barely even breathing. Yamamoto grabs his shoulders and shook, shook him hard, to try and snap him out of it.

"Hayato speak to me!!"

The silver haired boy opened his mouth, slowly, the silver locks which was both his and his mothers defining trait falling in front of his eyes, shading them from view.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"…… I-I know you told me not to get hurt… B-But…." His voice was tumbling, the words half formed, the tone, dead. He almost doesn't finish, because suddenly, he shakes hard, and wraps his arms around the others form, clinging for dear life.

"…B-But I got hurt, real bad."

Takeshi looks down, utterly horrified, and clings back as if the other was a fragile toy, sharing the hurt and the pain and everything in between. He felt the front of his chest get wet with the others tears, and the bitter warmth between them grew, making him choke, suffocate even- he wanted to run. He wanted to _die. _What was his reason for living again? He protected her, he fucking protected her, and now, and now—

He couldn't even think. There was no way he was going to ever read that article.

Curling his hands at the others chest, he allows himself to be upset… just this once. Just this once, he wanted to cry out everything until he was hollow and nothing was left. It wasn't even sinking in yet- his brain was still back, way back, not understanding, making him confused. What was that paper saying… she was dead? Was HIS mother dead? Why? How? What? When? He cannot see anything- just darkness, as he buries his head in the others clothing, not caring whether he was a stranger, a stuffed animal, anything- he was warm, and soft, and that smell… he gave in, and didn't let go. Everything was making him sick to his fucking stomach, but he couldn't do anything about it.

He used to dream, when he was a child, about what would happen if his mother left him. He used to think he'd have to house to himself, he could build it all up, get a job in the city, make life nice… he'd have that kind of responsibility. But he sees now, that without her, he was just a lost little boy with nothing. He didn't even have that house, that house he was going to build up, because he was quite sure the storm had erased it. Everything he had… was all around him, in the form of Yamamoto… all he had left was a stranger.

Murder?

Murder?

…No matter how many times he said it… it just didn't seem true.

"T-Takeshi," He mewls, "M-Murder?"

"……M-Murder, Hayato, murde--"

"O-Oh god, why, why, why, why, why."

Yamamoto, slowly feeling his eyes well up too, hugs him so tightly he doesn't know if he is making him hurt more or not. The silver locks go grey with his tears, and his fingers clench, holding on for dear life. This… this was so… sudden. He didn't know how to react properly, because he had never encountered this. Murder… who the hell would murder a woman like that…

… There was more to this, he knew it.

When he finally speaks, he speaks with the same choked tone as the other, shaking with the others body.

"I-If you are hurt, I'll heal you, Hayato…" Breath hitching, he buries his head in the others hair, not afraid to let the tears fall.

Hayato's fingers curl at his spine, and there is an audible sob which racks the other.

"I-I'll heal you."

Love suddenly became absent in his life.

Did anyone love him at all?


	8. Silence

Dear god I am busy IRL... it makes it hard to update, hence slowness... sorry ;; I might take ages to upload now or I might not be able to update at all.... I hope you understand! ;;

I hope you like this

x

* * *

_There is no point_

_Of reciting poetry _

_any more._

_Words, just empty words,_

_I can't feel a thing?_

_Why…_

…

_Why do I hurt so badly?_

"_Bird song";_

_~*~Chapter eight, silence.~*~_

That night, when they go back to Takeshis room, the boy tells him that anything in the house that was his was now the silver haired boys, too. He asks the other if he wants to sleep alone in the room, but the kid had clung desperately, saying he didn't want to be alone… not that night. The latter nods gravely, obeying the others wishes out of sheer willingness to make things better.

That night, Takeshi spent most of it on his side, listening to gentle sobs mixed with harsh breathing.

And after that, he asked to be alone.

So for six days, he doesn't see Hayato at all.

At all.

The boy is locked up in Yamamoto's room, quiet, and not talking to him. Takeshi doesn't know what he can do, because he only really opens the door to let Uri in and out, who has gotten very used to the house by now. He is constantly checking. He is constantly walking past the door, sitting outside it, making sure the other was still breathing somewhere in there. And even then, after all that, he _still _ never sees him. Maybe he does leave the room occasionally… because there have been times of utter silence for hours. But where does he go? Yamamoto can only guess.... He is only comforted by the creaking of the bed sometimes when the other shifts his weight, or by the words he can sometimes hear floating around, words not for him. He is worried, oh so worried, but he cannot do anything.

He leaves food outside the door, but its only really half eaten most of the time, and even then he suspects its Uri doing the eating and not his silver haired guest. He doesn't understand, because he cannot relate to the other. He had heard, people take grief in different ways, and if so, then he didn't want to harass him… but he shouldn't be doing that to himself. The things that flickered across the rich boys mind scared him even. What if he was hurting himself? Or starving himself? What if he was going to kill himself?

He walks past the door, on the fourth day, to find a barely eaten plate outside the door, with cat paw prints on its side, and twitches a little, sadness eating away at his chest. He can't watch this go on any longer.

"Hayato?" He calls to the door. There is no response. Cringing, he puts his palms out flat on the cool surface, and presses an ear against the wood. He still cannot hear anything.. maybe he wasn't in there. Or maybe… maybe—

"H-Hayato!" He says, a little more urgently. "S-Stop ignoring me, please!"

Shuffling.

Gokudera doesn't want the other to worry more… but he still doesn't speak. Takeshi feels the need to get a little angry in order to get the other to listen to him, but refrains- it wasn't in his nature.

"I-I wan't to see you…" He speaks against the wood. "Please, I just want to see you… I'm worried… I don't want you to just stay in there, rotting away. I said I'd help, right, Hayato? S-So I want to keep my promise… please let me help?"

"…"

There is a groan from the bed as he gets off of it, taking heavy steps towards the door, and letting it creak slowly open. He instantly turns around so the other can just see his back, and returns to bed, rolling over to face the wall as if nothing happened. Takeshi steps in uneasily…

…But everything is exactly as he left it? He turns to look at Hayatos form, tilting his head with the same puzzled and hurt expression.

"Hayato… are you ok?"

Well the answer was obvious. He mentally slapped himself, biting his lip, before asking softly;

"…You haven't been eating anything, right?"

Well… it was more of a statement. He receives no response from the other, which means that in fact no, he hasn't been eating. Takeshi gets a little upset at this. He shuffles a little closer to the bed side, trying to gather the courage and need to tell him if this continued, he'd die too. And he couldn't die, no, he couldn't die… not after Takeshi had only just found him. He plays with the bottom of his shirt absentmindedly, and furrows his brow in his search for the right words. They had to be powerful words, ones that would get the other to see sense, would get the other to live again… He opens his mouth.

"…I don't want you to die, Hayato. I still care about you…"

The silence suffocates him.

Running a hand through his short, messy black hair, he looks to the floor after receiving no response, muttering a quick 'sorry' with the nod of his head.

"….You…. do?"

Gokudera rolls over in the bed to face the other. Takeshi bits his lip a little harder. There are thick black rings around the others eyes, as if he had been punched in the face, and the paleness to his skin is akin to the beauty of fresh snow… except when worn by a person, it because a horror that he didn't want to see. Those green eyes that were so fiery before are half closed and mottled with shades of bottle green that grew dimmer and dimmer, as if there was no-one at home in his head. He tries to ignore it, but when it is staring you in the face, he couldn't… he stifles up his courage again.

"Of course I do, Hayato!! I don't want to see you suffer, because you are my friend and I value you… so please, stop hiding… you are stronger than this?"

… He was… stronger than this?

He feels something growing in his chest, dark and nasty.

He could turn this sadness into something else.

Looking at the tanned boys form, he opens his mouth to say something, but ends up flushing a little, gripping the covers tighter. Everything still ached like he had been tortured for days on end, and he didn't even have the energy to move… everything reminded him of her. The gentle trill of morning birds, the glare of the sun through the cracks in the blind, the warmth of the house, the crack of the other boys foot prints… everything was her. He shakes his head.

"No, Takeshi… I am not stronger than this." He leans his head against the pillow again, tears threatening to spill again. "I-I can't breathe without her."

"Yes you can, Hayato, you are doing so now…" Shuffling close once more, the other crouches down to that their faces are level, and leans his arms against the mattresses, their noses centimetres. The deep shades of auburn contrast with the sea green, and bristling a little, Gokudera looks away. It earns him a sigh.

"Can you eat something for me, Hayato? Please?" Smiling shakily, he nudges the others cheek with a fist, extremely lightly, afraid of hurting him. The other snorts softly, but doesn't have the motivation to stop the action.

"…What ever." He responds, still not looking at him. Takeshi is delighted and springs up.

"Y-Yes, I will get Hayato food!" He yells his thoughts out loud, before racing off. Hayato watches him, admiring his determination, pitying his trust in him. If he was him, he'd just give up… but that was the kind of pathetic person he is. A pathetic person… His self pity is amazing sometimes.

He firstly props himself up on his elbows, heightening himself so that he can slowly drag his hands flat on the surface of his bed, weakly pushing himself up into the sitting position. His bleary eyes look around. Uri is sleeping at the end of his bed again, and with a bare foot, he presses his toe into the cats side, receiving a gentle mewl as Uri woke up. He blinked his brilliantly coloured eyes at his master, before getting up, stretching, and walking along the others body to come sit in his lap. He stares down at the little creature, with an odd sort of smile sliding onto his face.

"I have to live for you, Uri…" He holds a finger up to the kittens face, which is immediately chewed on by those sharp little teeth he often found embedded in his skin. "Who else would you chew if I was not here? If… if anything happens, you can stay here with Takeshi though, ok?"

The kitten purrs loudly.

"T-That's my boy." He says, a little choked, proceeding to rub his other finger down the kittens spine, making him squeal and attack that hand. It wasn't long before his fingers were trying to evade the playful kitting as it darted around in his lap, and for the first time since he found out his mother was dead, he is laughing. Laughing in a genuine and honest way. He picks up Uri and kisses the cats cheek, to which Uri licks his in response.

"You love daddy, right?"

The cat, cradled in his chest, rolls around, purring.

His heart becomes a little less detached.

"Hayato!" Takeshi is walking through the door with some delicious looking dish, and as soon as the smell hits him, his insides curl and he almost drools. Of course, the boy refrains, but the way his little cat is looking at him tells him he was very close to getting saliva on Takeshi's bed. What a nasty thought, and Uri recoils, flicking his tail before returning to the end of his bed with a proud look. Gokudera fingers entwine around his broken tail before he gets out of reach, and he turns back to Takeshi with a sad look. The boy only grabs a chair, and sits next to his bed with a flushed yet happy look, his sadness still evident.

"I'm happy you are eating, Hayato… it makes me really happy." He has obtained roast chicken with garlic and pepper sauce and new potatoes with base-fat gravy… and it looks like heaven on a plate. But the other was a little guilty again.

"…A-are you sure?" Why did he keep asking this?

Takeshi laughs, and with a fork and a knife, he halves a potato into a small piece, spears it, and holds it up to the others face.

"Say aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah."

"W-What?!" Gokudera is a little alarmed, shrinking a little. "Y-You don't need to feed me! That's stupid!"

"B-But you can barely even lift your arms…"

"I-It doesn't matter! I am not-" The side of his mouth is prodded with the food, and Takeshi stares at him with a determined pout.

"Hayato, if you don't say aaaahhhh, I will force this fork in your mouth." There is a kind of glint to the boys eyes that Hayato doesn't want to argue with, even if he was still practically joking. "Its fine, really."

"…." Gingerly, the silver haired boy opens his mouth a little, and the raising of Takeshi's eyebrow makes him open it wider, and the food is gently placed into his mouth. He pulls it off with his teeth and chews, extremely slowly, keeping his gaze fixated on the others. His stomach is tying its self in knots again, and he wills it to stop because he wants to enjoy this… the food was delicious. Spectacular. And it was only a potato. The keen eyes of the other watch as he swallows slowly and awkwardly. As if he had forgotten how to. And with the same look of reluctance, he opens his mouth again, waiting. Yamamoto looks even happier.

This process is slow, painfully slow, and the other takes his time so much, that by the time he finishes all that he could eat, which is three quarters of it, the food is cold. But he ate it anyway, out of his body willing him too. He indicates to Takeshi that he cannot eat anymore, and grips the covers tighter, looking thoroughly embarrassed. Sensing this, the tanned boy reaches out with a strong hand, and places it on top of the others head, earning himself a startled mewl from the poor boy.

"Thanks, Hayato." Slowly, he ruffles his hair, being careful not to be to rough. The dull emerald gaze flickers across his face.

"Thanks… thanks for eating, breathing, living, existing… I am so glad you exist."

His heart clenches, and he flinches a little, the words burning into him. Gokudera ducks his head a little, calling him and idiot and weakly batting his hand away, but it cannot disguise the fact there are solitary tears running down his face, ignored by the boy who shed them. This kind of closeness with the other… it was allowed, right? Even if he was still kind of a stranger, it was allowed… he hangs his head low, with a feeling of confusion. So weak, so weak, he wanted to be strong, he didn't want to cry-

A thumb softly swipes the tears away from his cheeks, and upon looking up, it seems like the other has his own tears rolling from his eyes.

Hayato reaches up weakly, and swipes a thumb back.

"T-Thank you for saving me…"

There is a kind of smile on both their faces, even if the sadness is still there.

"Any time… any time."

Takeshi leaves the other with a warm feeling spreading through out his insides, and a heart full of feeling, reacting to a mind full of gentle words. He was allowed to highjack the bed again, the other perfectly fine with sleeping somewhere else, and was asked if he wanted anything else. He didn't. He couldn't. All he needed was right here in this house now, which he was becoming a resident of; no-one objected. On the outside, he radiated this kind of thankfulness, which was also on the inside, but still… there was that deep sadness and the want to be with something that didn't exist anymore. Things had to get better, they had to… he had to shake this feeling.

Hayato spends the night in the bathroom, throwing up what little he had to eat in almost a week until he can barely breathe anymore.

And heartbroken, Takeshi sits outside the door, listening to the sound of the other breaking apart.

... Whatever happened to 'Everything will be fine', huh?

His hands curl into fists again the cold, hard floor.

.....

He was... losing faith.


End file.
